The More Things Change
by spoowriterfic
Summary: <html><head></head>Set immediately after "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang," this story traces Jane's recovery from her physical injuries and Maura's from her emotional ones.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**The More Things Change**, Part 1 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of. I'm a bit squeamish myself, so beyond a little blood, that's about as graphic as the medical stuff gets.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: This is a long one. It's actually the longest thing I've ever written, which is why it took so long to finish up – I don't post WIPs. This opening scene, however, was complete pretty much in its final form here by fifteen minutes or so after the finale ended. I tried to capture here the eerie, super slow-mo feeling of those last few seconds of the episode itself.

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><p>It was surreal.<p>

She knew, in a distant, far-off way, that she was running.

She could feel the crunch as her feet hit the shattered glass on the linoleum, the shock that went from her hands all the way down to her feet as she stiff-armed the door open, as she had a fleeting thought that one of her heels felt loose – but somehow, for a moment, everything seemed to freeze.

She heard her own voice call out.

And then she heard a muffled gunshot.

Briefly, she was puzzled. It just sounded…wrong, in a way even her analytical mind struggled to place. No one would bother with a silencer. It couldn't have been one of the cops, and Marino still –

Then, in a moment of sickening clarity, the evidence of her eyes and ears caught up with each other as she watched both Marino and Jane collapse.

The front of Jane's shirt was stained with blood.

The front of Jane's shirt, where the gun had –

No.

Oh, no.

"Jane!" she cried, reaching out from twenty feet away as if she could catch her as she fell; even as she did it, she knew it was ridiculous, but her rational mind had deserted her.

Jane would have been proud of her for that.

Their eyes locked for a moment and she thought she saw Jane's hands move towards her, just briefly, before her eyes closed and her body slumped, unconscious. "No, you…. Jane!"

_The weight of a hand splayed across her back, to provide the largest shield possible_.

She broke into a full-fledged sprint, high heels and all, until her shoe gave under her and she found herself on her hands and knees.

_A hand on her arm, keeping her in the background, protecting her – taking the danger on herself._

"Oh God, Jane!"

_Jane, making eye contact one last time as she was dragged away, insisting, "Okay…it's okay…."_

She turned and saw officers speaking into their radios. "Get an ambulance!"

They paused and stared at her – at the infamously cool and collected Queen of the Dead, with her broken shoes and torn dress, on the edge of hysteria – and it was only after she added "_Hurry!_" that she realized they had probably been doing just that.

Korsak grunted as he landed hard on his knees beside her. "Aw, Jane," he muttered, trailing his fingers through her hair for a brief, vulnerable moment. "I'm sorry, kid. I shoulda taken the shot."

He shook his head even as he secured the weapons and pressed his fingers to Marino's neck.

"He's dead."

The conclusion was…well, it was more an informed hypothesis than conclusion, of course, but Jane would have called it inescapable.

He had probably been hit right in the heart.

Maura pressed her fingers to her eyes so hard she saw stars, trying to block out the image of the path the bullet must have taken as it tore its way through Jane's body and into his.

_Up_ through Jane's body. This was no simple through-and-through.

Over the years, she'd done post-mortem exams on one hundred twenty-six abdominal gunshot wounds, counting the ones she'd worked on in medical school, but to imagine that kind of damage wreaked on her own friend's body….

It was inconceivable.

She sucked in an uneven breath and wished, not for the first time, that she'd done more in her time with _Medecins Sans Frontieres_ than autopsies.

She'd gone to Dakar fresh out of medical school, full of her parents' philanthropic ideals and stinging from Garrett's sudden move to Milan. When the doctors there had found out she was a pathologist, they had been delighted and set her to work right away.

At the time, she'd been pleased at the chance to hone her skills even further, and at the thought that she was contributing in a way that no one else could.

She'd spent two years in that autopsy room and when she'd left, she'd thought it had been the best additional training she could have hoped for.

Today she fervently wished they'd sent her out into the field, even for a few days. If she'd had to employ her admittedly basic knowledge of first aid under duress, perhaps it wouldn't have entirely vanished from her mind now.

"ABCs," she whispered, leaning close to Jane's mouth to listen. "ABCs…ABCs." For a moment, she wasn't sure why she couldn't hear anything, and then the commotion outside – cops yelling, people running, even the howl of sirens and squeal of tires as yet more squad cars approached the scene – finally registered.

She reached for the stethoscope she had been wearing.

It was gone.

"ABCs," she muttered again. "I-I can't hear." She looked at Korsak, kneeling next to Jane, a faraway look on his face, and then at Frost, standing near them and wavering on his feet.

"_Korsak's callin' me BBK – Barf Bag Kid."_

She caught Frost's eye. "I can't hear if…I have to check her lungs…her heart. I need a stethoscope." When he didn't move immediately, she barked, "Now!"

Jolted into action, he ran for the morgue.

She watched him go, wracking her brain for some long-forgotten bit of emergency medical procedure she might have overheard other students discussing.

She stared at Jane, mind reeling, hands shaking, and one inescapable fact imprinted itself on her brain.

She didn't know what to do.

Somehow, she'd managed to hold it together on the campus of BCU, though she'd later admitted to Jane that it had been terrifying to realize she held that girl's life in her hands.

Somehow, she'd been able to recall the procedures that could save Frankie – though, as she'd said to Jane, she'd never actually done any of them. Medicine was so much more than rote knowledge, and the fact that she hadn't killed Frankie outright was something of a minor miracle, as far as she was concerned.

And, of course, she'd had Jane's courage – and desperation – backing her up.

But now?

It was gone. All gone.

She could name easily fifteen ways that an injury like this could kill someone, but was hard-pressed to think of a single thing she could do to prevent any of them.

"_Don't tell me you're finally letting emotion run that big brain_."

The faint moan startled her. Her gaze jerked to Jane's eyes, which were glazed but definitely open. Slowly, they tracked to her face and their eyes locked.

"Mm…." Her eyes drifted closed again.

_Maura_.

Somehow, some way, there was no doubt in her mind of what, exactly, Jane had been trying to say.

_She's asking me for help_.

That thought exploded through her brain, a peal of thunder that changed…everything.

_She trusted me to save Frankie._

And, in a burst of absolute clarity, she somehow felt a rush of ice-cold fear and warm affection all at once.

_She trusts me to save her._

With sudden, fierce determination, she pressed her fingers to Jane's carotid artery, finding a thready, irregular pulse. Her heart sank. "Oh, Jane," she said. "No, no, no. No."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Korsak reach out, but when she realized he was about to shove Marino out from under her, she yelped, "No!"

He froze and stared at her.

"Don't move her! You have to protect her spine. The – the bullet – " She looked at the exit wound near the center of Jane's back and found that she couldn't force her brain to calculate angles any more than she could have painted the _Mona Lisa_. "I don't know the trajectory – it might have chipped – you can't move her."

"Okay, Doc," he said, his voice at its most calming, most gentle. "What can I do?"

"_I told him…he'd never trust me to have his back after he saw me like that."_

Now she understood.

She knew why Jane had asked for a new partner. She understood why the memory of Korsak finding her, of comforting her, haunted her so.

Because, just as Jane had, she felt diminished in his eyes by her emotions and his calm facade.

Determined to pull herself together, she closed her eyes for a moment. "P-pressure. On the – on the wound."

"Doc," he said quietly.

She frowned. "What?"

He pointed with his chin. "I already am."

There it was again.

That voice.

That soft, gentle voice. The voice that called every stray puppy from Boston to San Francisco to his side. Damn it.

"_Maura, __**please**__."_

Her mind spun for a moment.

"_We trust you."_

She desperately held on to her ragged composure, staring at Korsak's visible hand, which was covered in blood, and the one that disappeared under Jane's stomach to cover the entrance wound.

"Oh," was all she could say.

She had a moment, then, to think. To let it sink in. To look at the growing bloodstain on Jane's shirt. To notice that she was now kneeling in a spreading puddle of blood. To take in the growing pallor of her skin.

To remember what it had been like: all those years, event after society event – all the people, all the carefully choreographed, predictable, scripted interactions that, in the end, had meant so very little.

"_Did you ever __**have**_ _a best friend?"_

To remember the day – the moment – she realized that what she had thought a friend was was actually nothing of the sort.

To imagine life without –

No.

**No.**

The sound of Frost's steps as he came running up jolted her back to awareness. "Here," he gasped, pressing the stethoscope into her hands.

Her hands shook as she took it.

She looked down at them and realized they were covered in blood.

Korsak followed her gaze and saw the realization hit in her eyes. "Thanks for the help, Doc," he said, still in that awful, gentle tone, as he resumed his prior position.

She suddenly had a vague memory of pushing his hand to the side and covering the gushing exit wound herself.

She settled the earpieces, brushing her hair back without thinking. Then a bit of hair fell back into her eyes and she saw that it, too, was now covered in blood.

The iron tang of it almost undid her.

She forced herself to take the stethoscope, to settle it over Jane's heart, and had to press her lips together with fierce, desperate determination when the faint, irregular _thump, thump, thump_ finally registered.

She shifted the stethoscope to Jane's lungs and had to close her eyes.

Hemothorax.

A guess, of course, which she hated, but there was definitely fluid of some kind in Jane's lung, and even she could be forgiven for assuming it was blood.

"How's Frankie?" she asked, staring as though transfixed, watching for the faint rise and fall of Jane's chest.

When it stilled for a moment, her own heart lurched as she prepared herself to perform CPR on her best friend. A moment later, she was granted a reprieve when Jane's chest jerked in a sudden gasp.

She could only pray that the ambulance would arrive before she had to perform battlefield surgery on her second Rizzoli of the day. "She did this because he said…because Frankie…if he dies…."

"Still alive. On the way to the hospital," Frost said.

"You hear that, Jane?" She crouched down next to her friend's ear. "Frankie's alive. He's going to the hospital. He's going to be okay. You both are."

"Doc, I don't think she can – "

She cut Korsak off with a fierce look. "_She can hear me._"

A trickle of blood seeped out of Jane's mouth, and that sight jolted her into action.

They were out of time.

She took a deep breath, then glanced at Korsak. "Get ready to move him."

"But you said she might – "

"Her lungs…the blood…I might have to drain…." She took a breath, gathered herself again. "I'll stabilize her spine as best I can. You move Marino. Frost, you'll have to put pressure on her wounds."

She looked up at Frost and saw that his jaws were locked resolutely together. "Get ready."

Korsak glanced up as Frost knelt directly in the puddle of blood and winced. "Don't puke."

His voice was thick, strained. "Not today." He looked at his partner and, for the first time, rested his hand briefly on her calf. "Swallow it if I have to."

Maura crawled around, crouching above both Jane and Marino. She settled her hands around her friend's neck; it was hardly a cervical collar, but it would have to do. "Your jacket," she said to Korsak.

"What?"

She frowned at him. "The ground…it's hard."

He shook his head with a faint smile, but removed his jacket anyway.

Jane suddenly coughed, releasing a gush of blood from her mouth.

"_What can you do – __**right now**_ – _that will help him?"_

Hemothorax.

Just as she'd thought.

That was that.

"God _damn _it," Maura groaned, "not again." She forced herself not to think of the many – certainly hundreds, potentially thousands – of things that could go wrong. "Turn her on her side! Try to keep her head and neck in alignment!" She noticed the way Korsak was looking at her and frowned. "What?"

"Don't think I've ever heard you curse."

Her voice shook. "Someone get me a needle. A long needle. Scalpel. Tape. Al-alcohol. Plastic tubing." She looked at her hands; they were covered in blood from her wrists to the tips of her fingernails. "Gloves. _Hurry_!"

She knelt behind Jane, propping her body up as she continued to cough up blood. Though she covered the still-gushing exit wound, it was getting harder to stem the flow of blood, and Maura could feel it soaking through her dress and trickling down her knees.

As they waited, Maura gently rubbed Jane's back. "You'll be okay," she murmured.

It was irrational, of course – despite her assurances to Korsak, there was really very little chance that Jane could hear her. Certainly, at a conscious level, she couldn't – and though she'd read a number of case studies, she'd yet to be convinced that someone unconscious could register the presence of a –

Of a loved one?

Oh.

"You have to hang on. Please, Jane. We…we have those Red Sox tickets, remember? We can't – we can't miss opening day."

"Where are your seats?" Frost asked, distracted.

"Third row, behind home plate. Birthday present."

"Wow." He whistled. "That's some present. What'd she give you for your birthday?"

She smiled fondly and squeezed her friend's shoulder. "A written promise to stop making me call reddish brown stains 'blood' for an entire year."

_Jane had, logically enough, figured that material things wouldn't mean much to her, though she'd looked almost sheepish as Maura had unwrapped it._

"_D'you like it?" she'd said, staring intently at the floor._

_Maura had laughed in delight and had thrown her arms around her friend, who froze for a moment and then relaxed into a grin and returned the hug. "It's perfect," she'd said. "Thank you."_

_Though she could offer no real explanation as to why, it was one of her most treasured possessions, and it hung in its frame in all its notarized glory in her office._

They both jumped when Korsak heaved a sigh. "Why does it always gotta be Jane?"

Frost shook his head. "I don't know."

Maura briefly trailed her fingers through her hair, her eyes going to the scars on her hands. "She lets her heart run her brain." Jane often teased her about doing exactly the opposite.

"I don't – "

"She went into that basement because the only thing that mattered was saving that girl. She di-did _this_ because all that mattered to her was making sure someone could get to Frankie."

Their heads snapped up in unison at the wail of an approaching siren. "Oh, thank God," Maura breathed. "It's gonna be okay, Jane. It's gonna be fine."

"That was fast," Korsak said, glancing at his watch. "Three minutes. Nice."

Three minutes?

Maura could hardly make sense of the statement; it had felt like hours.

A SWAT officer ran up with her medical supplies just as the ambulance roared onto the street in front of them, disgorging a few EMTs and what looked like an actual ER doctor, along for the ride.

Bless the cop who'd thought to ask for that.

"Thank God," Maura said again as she relinquished her position behind her friend. "Abdominal gunshot wound. Point blank. Upward trajectory. Pulse is thready. Shock. She's been coughing up blood…I suspect hemothorax. I was about to – "

"You the one that took care of that other cop?" he asked, seeing the supplies she gestured towards. "The guy?"

"…_results in death if not – if not treated immediately – wh – God!_"

She slumped and looked down. "Yes. I-I'm a pathologist…I did the best I could, but…."

"You saved his life," the doctor said as his colleagues loaded Jane onto a backboard. "He's in surgery now. He's going to be fine, but he wouldn't have been if you hadn't relieved the pneumothorax."

Her knees unlocked and Maura would have collapsed if Korsak and Frost hadn't caught her.

She was surprised to find herself sobbing.

"It-it's okay, Doc," Korsak said gently. "You did good."

She could only shake her head.

How could she explain that it had really been Jane, pushing, coaxing, even begging, that had given her the courage to even try?

The doctor watched the three of them. "We've only got room in the ambulance for one of you."

Frost glanced at Korsak and got a knowing nod of approval. "You should go," he said to Maura.

She forced herself to gather her composure once more. "No, you're her part – you're both – you…."

"Doc," Korsak said gently, "she'll want you."

"But – "

"She won't want us to see her hurt. Been there, done that, remember? She hates that I saw her that way."

It was only the cold, utter logic of his line of thought that convinced her.

"I'll call her parents too," he said, then sighed. "Again."

An EMT approached them. "We need to go." The quiet urgency of his voice sucked the breath out of all of them. "Now."

Korsak reached out and took her hands. Frost hesitated for a moment and then reached out as well. She stared at their joined hands, all of them covered in blood.

Jane's blood, drawing them together into a small, dysfunctional family.

"Okay," Maura said quietly, following him to the ambulance.

"Hey, Doc!" Frost called. "Your shoes!"

She frowned. "My what?" She glanced down past her torn, bloodstained dress to notice – to remember – that her shoe had broken, something like ten years ago. "It doesn't matter."

Korsak and Frost stood together and watched the ambulance leave, any rancor between them forgotten. "Those shoes cost more than I make in a month," Frost said.

"Jane is one lucky lady."

"Tell me about it," Frost said, with a somewhat wistful sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

**The More Things Change**, Part 2 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Thank you for the kind reviews. I think I managed to reply to all of them. Given that I'm vastly more like Maura than Jane (though, sadly, not rich), I strangely have a harder time writing her than Jane. As a note, we'll explore later what Maura actually _did_ in that scene – since it was her POV, and her brain was somewhat occupied with freaking out, even she's not really sure.

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><p>At one point, she thought that it might be a good idea to go wash off some of the dried blood, but the thought of missing the Rizzolis kept her glued to the spot.<p>

The doctor had, reluctantly, promised to bend the rules a little and come back to at least let her know whether Jane had survived her initial treatment in the E.R., but he hadn't been back yet – and she dreaded missing him, too.

At least she was alone, here in the surgical waiting room, and didn't have to worry about anyone staring at her. She'd collected quite a few startled looks in the emergency waiting room, covered as she was in then-bright red blood.

She listlessly watched the TV, though she had no interest whatsoever in the celebrity Oprah was currently interviewing. She had just stood to change the channel but froze in shock when the station cut to breaking news and she saw Jane's face.

"This is Detective Jane Rizzoli," the reporter was saying. "Earlier today, she ended a tense standoff outside of Boston Homicide Headquarters. Detective Rizzoli shot the alleged leader of a powerful drug ring by shooting first through herself and into the suspect, killing him and badly injuring herself."

The anchor broke in: "She shot him through her own body?"

Well. At least she knew they'd managed to reach the Rizzolis; they'd never have released Jane's name otherwise.

The reporter nodded. "That's right, Kent. Although SWAT officers were on the scene, they report that they were unable to act due to the suspect's position. Detective Rizzoli forced the perpetrator's gun down to her abdomen but was able to hit him in the heart.

"The suspect had already killed at least four people: two police officers and two civilians. He had also shot and seriously wounded her brother, Frank Rizzoli, Jr., also a police officer. He took Detective Rizzoli hostage in an attempt to escape police custody."

"And how is she doing now?"

"She's currently in surgery at Boston Medical Center. Her exact condition is unknown, but we have been told that she was recently upgraded from 'grave' to 'extremely critical.'"

Maura gasped.

Grave.

Her heart had fluttered to a stop three times on the ambulance ride over, but the EMTs had been guardedly optimistic at how little effort it had taken to get it started again.

Grave meant they'd nearly – that Jane – her stomach lurched.

Grave meant Jane had nearly died.

"And her brother?"

"He's listed as critical but stable. Department spokesmen have credited his survival to the intervention of the department's Chief Medical Examiner, Doctor Maura Isles, seen here."

Maura winced.

"Her supervisors state that Detective Rizzoli's act of heroism is typical for this driven and successful police officer."

The view switched back to the anchor, with a picture-in-picture shot of Jane speaking to a reporter she didn't recognize. "The footage you see here is of an interview we did with Detective Rizzoli following her capture last year of escaped serial murderer Charles Hoyt. We at WHDH would like to remind the citizens of Boston that our blood banks are always in need of donations, and we certainly wish this local hero a speedy recovery."

"Jane will hate that," she muttered.

Then her head snapped up when she heard a familiar voice just outside the door. Only when it opened and she saw Mr. and Mrs. Rizzoli standing there did she realize that she'd begun crying again.

She stood and took a hesitant step towards them. "Oh, Mrs. Rizzoli, I'm so sorry…. If I could have told her Frankie was – I should have stopped her. I should have…. There must have been something I could have done – I could have been faster or I could have…there must have been some way I could have…."

She became aware that she was babbling and forced herself to stop.

Mrs. Rizzoli crossed the room at a near-run and enveloped her in a hug, regardless of the blood caking her hair, staining her dress, even dried on her hands and arms. "You saved my boy's life," she whispered into her ear, her voice thick with tears. "Thank you."

"But…Jane…."

Angela brushed her hair soothingly, something Maura genuinely could not remember her own mother doing. Ever. It nearly broke her composure again.

"Baby, it's okay," she said, and Maura recognized the tone from having watched Angela care for Jane when she'd picked up a case of food poisoning from a restaurant down the street from headquarters which had since closed. "It'll all be okay."

It was a mother's tone of voice.

"But I should have – "

"There's nothing you could have done to stop her, Maura. I haven't been able to get her to do a damn thing she didn't want to since she was four years old."

"But I – "

Angela pulled back and squeezed her arms. "You saved Frankie. You hear me? You saved my son's life. There is nothing I can do to ever repay you for that."

"But…Jane. Have you heard? The news said…but they won't tell me." Her eyes welled with fresh tears, but she was able to blink them away. "I'm not family. I'm not her doctor. I…."

She trailed to a halt when the hands on her arms gripped tightly in protest. "What do you mean you're not family?"

Maura stared at her; she seemed eerily calm, and yet what she was implying was patently untrue.

"You're covered in blood," she said. "Jane's and Frankie's." She brushed her hair back again. "That's Rizzoli blood. That makes you family. Forever, you hear me? You're a Rizzoli now."

There was nothing she could say other than "Thank you."

"Come on," she said, giving her a gentle shove towards the door. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

"N-no. I don't want to – I don't want to leave – I – "

Angela rubbed her arm, still moving her implacably towards the door. "Frank," she said, "go talk to the nurses and make sure they have permission to talk to Maura."

He nodded. "Sure."

"And if the doctors come, tell them to wait for us."

Mr. Rizzoli nodded again and approached Maura, fidgeting with the coat in his hands. "I – I can't ever say thank you enough."

"I should have stopped her. Somehow. I should have – "

He hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder. "There's enough regrets in this world. Don't take on ones you don't deserve."

She looked down, shaking her head in silent protest, and allowed Angela to lead her towards the restroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**The More Things Change**, Part 3 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Again, thanks for the reviews. We have a little more here between Maura and Angela – who, incidentally, is very difficult to write. She has a pretty distinctive way of speaking, and it's also difficult to be true to her personality as it's portrayed on the show without pushing her too far into a stereotype.

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><p>It continued to surprise her that Mrs. Rizzoli could be so calm.<p>

No, more than surprise. Astound her, really.

She couldn't say she knew Angela well, but she had had enough dealings with her friend's mother to know that quiet, subdued authority was most emphatically not her natural state.

And yet, here they were.

Mrs. Rizzoli had already given her hair a cursory wash with the hospital's hand soap, scrubbed the blood off her arms with paper towels, dabbed at blood spatters on her neck that she hadn't realized were there, and had then settled her on a chair.

"I'm going to fix your dress," she said. It was not a request.

"Oh, you – you don't have to – "

Angela waved off her concern. So, here she was, watching, shell-shocked and befuddled, as the older woman dug an actual sewing kit out of her purse and set to mending the tear in the waistline of her dress.

Neither spoke – also an aberration, as far as Maura could tell. Whenever she'd gone to the Rizzolis' house for Sunday dinner, it had been Angela who'd driven the conversation, often despite her daughter's biting commentary.

Several muscles on her face attested to the fact that Mrs. Rizzoli was deeply, deeply upset, but there was little external evidence to back up that assessment.

Finally, she worked up the courage to ask about it.

"It's a mom thing, sweetie," she said as she squinted at her needle. "You learn the first time your baby gets a bump or a bruise that you have to be strong."

"But don't you – ?"

"Of course I do. I will. But not here." She finished threading the needle and gathered the folds of her dress. "Frankie needs me. Jane needs me…_you_ need me. Frank's a big baby inside." Maura had to force herself not to squirm away as the needle brushed against her waist. "Moms have stuff to do before they can cry, and they don't cry in front of other people."

Maura considered that, reviewing her own childhood in her mind's eye. She didn't recall ever seeing her mother cry, true, but she was, by nature, a reserved woman.

"Oh," she finally said. She couldn't help but wonder if her mother had ever been moved to tears by something as simple as a bump or a bruise.

Logically, she knew that was ridiculous. She knew that her parents genuinely loved her – it was just that they had been…less than effusive. She took more than a little responsibility for that – she had been a reserved child, as she'd told Jane, and had never been comfortable being held.

She thought back to the way it had felt to allow herself to sink into Angela's embrace and draw on her strength, even for just that short moment.

Maybe she'd been kidding herself all along.

Sometimes she envied Jane her family.

"There," Mrs. Rizzoli said, startling her out of her reverie. "Good as new."

That was…well, something more than optimistic.

The dress was done for, really – if the ragged mending hadn't done it in, the bloodstains surely would. No drycleaner in the country would ever be able to get those stains out. But Maura had been raised in the superficial world of high society and knew that a "thank you" was the most appropriate response.

"Now, about these shoes…."

"What?" _Shoes?_

Mrs. Rizzoli frowned at her. "Didn't you notice your shoe was broken?"

She had, suddenly, a vague memory of someone – had it been Korsak? – asking her the same thing. "Oh," she said. "I was running." Suddenly, she had to look away, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why. "I was trying to catch…I knew I – I was too far away. But I didn't want her to…hurt herself."

In retrospect, it was absurd. What was a bruise compared to a point-blank gunshot wound?

Angela tilted her head and regarded her shrewdly; suddenly, she suspected she knew where Jane had learned her 'people sense,' as she liked to call it.

"Janie's really important to you, isn't she?"

She could only nod silently. Anything she said would be far, far too inadequate to actually describe it.

"She talks about you all the time, you know?"

The question seemed harmless enough, but she'd watched Jane at work in the interrogation room enough to suspect she was being given rope to hang herself on, so she restrained herself to a simple: "Really?"

"Mmm. At Sunday dinner last week, she was telling us something about some facial thing? She kept teasing Frankie about his…occipital…something."

Maura smiled wearily; at this point, there would never be any correcting Jane on the subject. She suspected, in fact, that it had become something of an inside joke between Jane, herself, and Frankie. "I imagine she said 'occipital spatula.'"

"Something like that."

"What she meant to say was 'obicularis oculi' – it's a facial muscle. I've been studying the Facial Action Coding System."

"Like on _Lie to Me?_" Maura shrugged; she watched mostly documentaries and Jane mostly sports, aside from the occasional crime procedural, but she hadn't heard of that one. "It's a TV show? They always know when someone's not telling the truth? With body language?"

"Well, some studies have shown that a skilled observer can be more accurate than a polygraph test."

She saw no reason to mention that her own motive had been purely personal – to find a way, through science if she had to, to begin to see the world, to understand it and its people, the way Jane did so instinctively.

"She said you mentioned it a while back and that she's been reading about it."

"She has?"

"She looks up a lot of what you say."

Maura closed her eyes.

"_What is it again? Say it again." She'd handled the medical dictionary with the ease of long practice, and now Maura had to wonder – how often had she done just that?_

"You're as good as college, and definitely cheaper."

Though she had meant it as an off-hand comment, had even punctuated it with a friendly grin, Maura flushed.

"What?"

She sighed and looked away, knowing she'd been caught – she couldn't lie, of course, and Mrs. Rizzoli certainly wouldn't let the matter go.

"Tell me."

"I shouldn't. Jane had never told anyone what she told me."

"I can keep a secret."

"From Jane?"

"Sure." She leaned closer conspiratorially. "To this day, Jane doesn't know that her father and I ever had sex. Thinks the stork brought her."

Maura laughed; it felt strange, amidst it all, to do so. She shook her head, though, and looked away again.

"Maura."

She sighed; there was no hope for it, really. And part of her _wanted_ to tell Angela – surely only good could come from her mother finally knowing of the sacrifice Jane had made for her family. "Will you promise me that you won't tell anyone?"

"On my mother's grave."

"Jane applied to BCU in high school."

"Really?"

"She was accepted."

Mrs. Rizzoli's jaw sagged. "I always knew she was smart. Brought home good grades all through school. But…. Then why…?" She gasped. "It was the money."

Maura nodded.

"She was worried about her father?"

She nodded again.

"Always sacrificing herself for everyone else."

"I suppose you could look at it that way."

Angela sniffed, despite it all. "You keep talking Google at her," she said with a watery smile, "and it'll be just as good." She offered a hand to Maura, who winced as she stood. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she said, genuinely puzzled. "My knees hurt."

Angela sat her back down. "Let me see." She eased Maura's dress up away from her legs and gasped. "Oh, honey. What _happened_?"

She frowned, staring at the bloody contusions. She forced herself to review her memories of the previous couple of hours; they were hazy, and all tied up with her horror and panic. She could make very little sense of them. Then she glanced at her shoes. "I think I fell," she said, "when my shoe broke."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I-I didn't remember."

Angela shook her head and dug in her purse again. "Good thing I carry a first aid kit."

Maura stared at her.

"Have you _met_ my children?" she asked with a gently teasing grin, which faded as she looked off somewhere in the distance. She sniffed and glanced back at Maura with a strained smile. "I don't leave the house without one of these."

There was something going on, just under the surface, but Maura had no idea how to go about asking, so she just smiled and tried to ignore the pain as Mrs. Rizzoli doused her knees in rubbing alcohol.


	4. Chapter 4

**The More Things Change**, Part 4 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Which is more distracting, I wonder? Wrinkled clothes or someone _else_'s clothes? :-) Also, for those wondering – Angela's a smart cookie. If there's...something...she wants to know from, say, Maura, it's safe to say she'll figure it out. Jane learned it somewhere, after all.

* * *

><p>The only obvious outward sign of Angela's continuing distress was the white-knuckled grip she had on the steering wheel.<p>

A whole host of muscles in her face were telling a very different story, but Maura had no idea how to go about broaching the subject. She wanted to offer comfort, but that was difficult given that she couldn't lie and that the situation – and Jane's condition – was still so unstable.

"It was good news," she finally said.

"That my baby has to have two more surgeries? _Today_?"

Through some feat of self-discipline, she managed to keep her voice from shaking. "That she – that she has a good chance of making it."

Angela stopped at a red light and turned to face her, frowning. "Jane ever tell you you're a little…blunt?"

"Many times, actually." She sighed. "She's really very lucky."

"She's got…she's in a _coma_!"

"A medically-induced coma. To give her the best chance possible of healing."

"Still."

"Mrs. Rizzoli – abdominal gunshots…they're very often fatal. She really is very lucky."

Angela glanced at her again, her face a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You been thinking about that all day?"

"I'm up to twenty-six."

"Twenty-six what?"

Maura felt tears well – _again_ – in her eyes and sighed. She waited a moment until they cleared, until she could trust her voice, and said, "Ways that gunshot could have killed her. It could have nicked her intestines. She could have hit her own heart. It could have – " She forced herself to stop and lapsed into silence.

Angela didn't reply for a very long time – not, in fact, until she pulled into her own driveway. "Oh," she finally said. She circled the car and pulled Maura to her feet. "Honey?"

"Yes?"

"Call me Angela."

Though she had no real idea of what caused the offer at that moment, it made her smile. "All right."

"How long will it take her to…?"

"To recover?"

Angela nodded.

"Well, I imagine a lot will depend on how the surgeries go."

"Guess."

She frowned. "I don't guess." Her innate honesty forced her to admit, "Usually." She glanced at Angela. "I don't like to guess."

"That must drive Jane crazy." Maura shrugged. It certainly should have, and while it was true that it occasionally frustrated her, in general she seemed to have accepted it as simply one of Maura's quirks. "Make an…estimate."

She shook her head. "That's a guess."

"Please?"

She sighed. "Three to six months? There must be extensive muscle damage, and you have to understand how many biological processes happen in that area of the body. Even something as simple as sitting up requires abdominal muscles that – " She caught the look on Mrs. Rizzoli's face and stopped short. "I'm sorry."

"Every time I think I understand how bad it is, I realize I don't." She looked at Maura. "What were the odds? Of her surviving?"

"In general? The first surgery? The ride to the hospital?"

Angela stared at her. "The ride to the hospital?"

Maura gulped. "Are you sure you – "

"Yes."

She closed her eyes against the memory. She'd been sitting in the back with Jane, a paramedic next to her and the hospital's chief of emergency medicine on the other side of the stretcher.

She didn't remember much, really, but the sound of the siren and the medical terminology erupting from her companions in shorthand, staccato bursts.

But she did remember each time she had to let go of the death grip she had on Jane's ankle, the only part of her that she could safely reach, every time they had to use the defibrillator paddles.

"She…her heart…stopped…three times."

Strangely, that seemed to ease some of Angela's anxiety. "Okay. Thank you."

She led Maura inside. "I still keep some of Janie's stuff in her room…for when dinner runs late." She eyed Maura critically. "Most of it should fit you, if you roll the legs up."

"Thank you."

"Guest bathroom downstairs doesn't have a shower, but there's a bathroom upstairs at the end of the hall from the kids' rooms. Jane's room's the first on the right…the one with all the Red Sox stuff."

She limped up the stairs, conscious of the lingering ache in both knees, and stood in front of Jane's room.

It was – well, if she could have designed a room that personified how she imagined her friend to have been as a teenager, it was this room.

The walls were covered in Red Sox memorabilia. Sports trophies were scattered on various shelves, along with several academic medals that attested to just how well she'd done in school.

So it should not have been surprising that her bookshelves were crammed with books two rows deep and two rows high, and yet it still took her aback.

It was certainly not surprising was that a good fraction of them were biographies of famous sports players; there were also several crime novels, a few fantasies and mysteries, a history of the Boston Patriots franchise, and two dog-eared copies of _2001: A Space Odyssey_.

Maura sat on the bed, with its striking red comforter – no frilly pink sheets for her friend, no – and tried to picture Jane living in here, growing up in here.

It was easier than she'd expected.

It occurred to her that someone going through her childhood bedroom – had it not been converted to a secondary library by her parents – would have had a far more difficult time in identifying it as hers.

With a sigh, she looked in the closet and found, as she expected, T-shirts and jeans.

Well, it was better than a bloodied and hand-mended couture dress, wasn't it?

She found a soft, clearly well-loved Celtics T-shirt and then turned to the dresser, where she dug out a pair of sweat pants – the thought of denim rubbing against her bruised and scraped knees was just too much to bear – and headed for the bathroom.

She glanced at her clothes as she folded them up on the counter and sighed.

"Reddish brown stains," she murmured, looking once more at the dried blood on her dress.

She stared at the label for a moment, then brushed her fingers over the stain, wrapped her shoes in the dress, gathered the whole bundle up, and put it in the trashcan next to the sink.

The lavender body wash made her smile; Jane had gotten rid of all of hers after their last encounter with Hoyt, but she'd clearly forgotten the bottle in her parents' shower. It was an unlooked for but welcome connection to her friend, and she squirted a healthy amount onto a washcloth with a faint, strained smile.

She tried not to feel relief as she stood in the shower; it felt wrong to feel pleasure while Jane fought for her life through yet another surgery. But the fact was that the spray of the warm water, the scent of the soap – it all allowed her to escape, even just briefly, and to gather herself back together.

It was a more than a little surreal to put on the outfit.

These were _Jane's_ clothes, and it felt strange to put them on. In a way, though, it was also comforting – a tangible connection to someone who, at the moment, seemed very far away indeed.

With a sigh, she tied her damp hair back into a functional ponytail and made her way downstairs.

"Mrs. Rizzoli? Angela?"

If she found it at all unsettling to see Maura wearing her daughter's clothes, she gave no sign of it. "Oh, honey, are you feeling better?"

"A little, thank you, but I was wondering if…if there were any shoes I could borrow?"

"I've been looking. None of us wear your size, but Jane left a pair of flip-flops here last time we went to a Celtics game."

Despite herself, Maura's eyes widened. It was quite a leap to go from Jimmy Choo to flip-flops, but all she said was, "That's fine. Thank you."

She sat at the kitchen table and watched as Angela put together a bag filled with bread, bottles of water, crackers, and other staples. "We'll be at the hospital for a while," she said, sensing Maura's interest. "Hospital food is horrible."

She just nodded; she was beginning to feel numb, dissociated, overwhelmed, and she didn't quite know how to stop it.

"Can I ask you something?" Mrs. Rizzoli said as she continued packing.

It took a moment for the words, ingrained in her from the moment she could speak, to go from her head to her mouth. "Of course," she finally said.

"How did you and my daughter become friends? You're so…different."

As much as she'd often accused Jane of hyperbole, it occurred to her that she might just have to question Angela's use of understatement.

"We met at work. I joined the department just before the…incident…with Hoyt."

Angela flinched at his name. "Were you involved in that case?"

"No, my predecessor handled the case; he'd meant to retire, which is why I was hired, but once it became clear that they were investigating a serial killer, he chose to stay on until he was captured."

"Jane didn't like him very much," Angela said. "Used to say he didn't listen to her."

"He was…set…in his ways," Maura admitted.

"So…after…you know…?"

"Jane became quite well-known amongst her colleagues, so I knew who she was. After I got settled and she recovered, our paths naturally began to cross."

Angela was fascinated; Jane so rarely shared the details of her job with her family. "And you worked well together?"

"Yes." Her eyes grew distant for a moment as she thought back. "At the sixth crime scene we worked together, one of the other detectives was pressuring me to make an assumption I wasn't comfortable with, and – "

"And Jane stuck up for you?"

Maura reviewed her memory of that day, surprised when a warmth spread through her and drew a fond smile quite without her permission.

Oh.

_Oh._

"Maura?"

She jerked her head up. "Sorry. Yes, she did."

"She's always doing stuff like that."

"Yes." Maura sighed. "We began to…socialize a bit, after that. I think Jane was trying to make sure I knew I had at least one ally. She started coming down to the morgue for reports instead of waiting for me to deliver them; she began to bring me coffee…thing like that."

Mrs. Rizzoli smiled. "She tries to act all tough, but she's really a sweetheart underneath all of that."

Maura nodded. "We work well together, as I said, and we realized that, beyond that, we enjoy each other's company."

"Are you the one who fixed her nose that time Frankie broke it?"

"Yes."

"Were you friends then? I don't remember her mentioning you before then, but she did after."

Despite all the horror of Hoyt's reappearance in Jane's life, Maura had a certain soft spot for the entire experience. There had been so many firsts over those few days, and since Maura treasured the changes they'd brought to her life, she still looked back on the whole thing with very conflicted emotions.

"I suppose so," she finally said, "though at the time we'd never spent time together outside of work."

"Really? To hear her talk, you were thick as thieves."

She shook her head. "At that time, the most we'd done together was share a can of tuna salad for lunch."

"Tuna salad?" Angela stared at her. "Jane hates tuna salad."

"She does?"

"Well, she did."

"Perhaps her tastes have changed."

She didn't quite understand the little half grin that lifted the corner of Angela's mouth. "Maybe it depends who she's eating with."

Maura frowned, sensing that she was being tweaked, but she wasn't exactly sure how. "After some time, we started talking about spending time with each other outside of work."

"And things progressed from there?"

"Yes." She shrugged. "We have fun together. It was…new to me. I didn't have many…real…friends as a child."

"Jane's as real a friend as you could possibly want."

Maura nodded. "I know."

"We were a little surprised," Angela admitted, "when she first started talking about you – especially when she said you came from a well-to-do family."

Maura's shoulders slumped; there it was, the wedge that had come between them, back again.

"What?"

"The fact that my family is…well…wealthy…."

"I know, I know," Angela said, waving off her concern. "It just surprised me at first, you know? I'm proud of Frank, but being a plumber is hardly…."

"Jane said that there were iron workers in your family, that your family helped build Boston. Jane's proud of that, and she should be."

"And, well, when she started talking about the marathon – Jane hates running."

Maura glanced at her. "So she said. But we wanted to accomplish something together."

Angela rolled her eyes. "You couldn't sew a quilt?"


	5. Chapter 5

**The More Things Change**, Part 5 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Ah, Korsak. He's a good guy. I think both Jane and Maura ping his "OMG stray puppy!" instincts, though Jane would, of course, freak if she knew that.

* * *

><p>Vince Korsak was a detective, and a damn good one at that.<p>

He saw things, noticed details, and even though he hadn't gone to some fancy college, he was street smart and knew it.

Best of all, he could read people.

Growing up where he had, where the wrong look at the wrong person could get you killed or worse, had started him down that road. After he'd nearly missed a shell casing during his first case after making Homicide, he'd honed his skills of observation almost to an art form.

So when he'd picked up his phone and heard Angela Rizzoli's voice, worried but not frantic, he knew she was calling about Maura.

He entered the waiting room and drew up short when he saw that it was empty, save for Maura, who was sitting in a battered chair, staring at the hands tangled in her lap.

She looked up when he approached, and he was suddenly struck by how damn _young_ she really was, when you dug out the real woman from under the job and the makeup and the upbringing.

She met his eyes, pale and drawn, and his heart went out to her, sitting there in obviously borrowed clothes and a pair of utterly ridiculous flip-flops.

He'd once told Frost that there was nothing Maura couldn't make look good; he made a mental note to tell him he'd been wrong – even Maura Isles couldn't pull off flip flops.

She just sat there, staring at him.

She was lost.

"Hey," he said. "Where's everyone else?"

"With Frankie. They said he was coming to." Her voice was hoarse; between her reddened eyes and the dark circles beneath them, it was even money as to whether it was because she had been crying or was simply exhausted.

"And Jane?"

Her eyes closed briefly; her head dipped forward; her hands knotted together.

_Busted, Doc_, he thought.

With Jane, it had been easy.

He'd known the moment he'd watched Jane introduce herself to Maura over a gruesome murder scene. She'd just been put back on active duty the day before, and she'd flinched when Maura stretched out her hand, but when their eyes had met, she'd quietly extended her own.

Her _hand_ – which she'd kept resolutely hidden under vinyl gloves or shoved in her pockets from the moment she'd walked back through the door the morning before. She'd stayed late so she could type when they were all gone, and had already come up with five excuses for Korsak to sign off on her paperwork.

Korsak, watching from across the room, had put aside his feelings at having been told that morning that Jane had requested a new partner, and had spent ten minutes doggedly trying to distract Crowe. The man was a bastard in general, but he was viciously cruel to Jane, and Korsak would be damned if he'd allow Crowe to discover even more ammunition.

"Surgery." Her voice cracked over the word. "Again," she whispered.

"How is she?"

"Last I heard – " Maura swallowed, then swallowed again. "Critical but stable."

"How are you?"

Maura frowned at him. "Me?"

He sat down next to her. "You. Are you okay?"

Something in her eyes flickered and she looked away.

She wasn't okay – not nearly. But then, he'd known that the moment he'd heard that shrieked "Jane!"

"You saved her life," he said quietly. "You remember that?"

That brought her head back around and she frowned at him in confusion.

"Jane's mom called me. She's worried about you. Said you'd forgotten you broke your shoes."

Her eyes blinked slowly. "I did?" She glanced down at her feet. "Oh."

Korsak reached out and put a hand on her knee. "What _do_ you remember?"

She shuddered.

"D…Maura?"

Her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. "I didn't know what to do."

He nodded. "That's what you said. That's not what you did."

She turned to look at him. "What?"

"You coulda passed for an EMT."

"No, I didn't – I – I just – "

"You really don't remember?"

He watched the lines around her mouth deepen as she clenched her teeth together.

She didn't want to remember.

"It's okay," he said brusquely, dismissing his own memory of the slightly panicked but nevertheless competent care she'd given Jane. "Never mind."

Somehow, that small kindness seemed to break her, and tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.

He reached for her awkwardly; as his hand brushed her shoulder, she froze and pressed her hand over her mouth, swallowing the next wracking sob.

She truly didn't know how to accept his sympathy.

So he waited, saying nothing, as she gained control of herself.

"Your tortoise is okay," he said as her breathing began to even out. "I took him to my place. The rabbits love him."

"Tortoise."

"That's what I said."

Maura darted a look at him and frowned. "Oh." She sighed. "I'm sorry. It's habit – Jane – "

"I rescued a guinea pig once," he said. "Jane called her a gopher for all the time I had her."

She rubbed her face with her hands.

Detectives noticed things, connected the dots, pulled disparate facts together into cohesive wholes.

Vince Korsak was a good cop and a better detective.

"She'll be okay," he said. "She's too stubborn not to be."

"She made me stand behind her," Maura whispered. "She knew he would take someone and she _deliberately_ – "

Of course she did. Jane would have done that for anyone; she was covered in both literal and metaphorical scars from all the times she'd put someone else's safety ahead of her own.

That it was Maura who was in danger – well, nothing could have stopped her.

"I know."

Maura rubbed a spot on her arm, tracing the edges of a faint, vaguely hand-shaped bruise. "She grabbed me here…and pulled me behind her."

There wasn't much he could say to that; that Jane had held her that tightly spoke to just how dire she'd known the situation really was.

"She told me it would be okay," Maura finally added, dragging the words through the thickness in her throat. "She said it would be okay."

"It will be."

She darted a haunted look at him and then went back to staring at her folded hands. "It's an abdominal – "

"It'll be okay."

Something flared in her at that, and she stood abruptly, pacing the short length of the room before she stopped and stared at him. "The last person to tell me _that_ is the one who's fighting for her life in surgery right now!"

He could suddenly see past the anger to the feeling underneath; he'd never been able to read Maura the way Jane could, but years of suspicions suddenly crystallized into utter certainty.

He approached Maura and wrapped his arms around her, this time holding on until her instinctive stiffening abated and she relaxed into his arms. "She'll be okay," he said again.

She swallowed hard, but didn't say anything.

Vince Korsak was a good detective; he knew when to keep his mouth shut. Years in interview rooms had also taught him when to talk.

"She feels the same way, you know?"

Her head shot up and she stared at him. "What?"

He smiled crookedly at her. "Oh, come on. You might as well have 'I'm with her' tattooed on your forehead. Both of you."

It was a gamble. He wasn't sure Maura knew how she felt either; he'd seen enough innuendo go right over her head, but she wasn't good with such things in general, and he'd never quite worked out whether she was unaware of her feelings or simply missing the point of the sly comments.

"I – I don't – I – " She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, though she scowled a little as she said, "How do you know?"

"It's the little things," he said.

It was the way Jane, who could hold a grudge like nobody's business, couldn't stay mad at Maura for the life of her.

He'd watched – her record was a measly day and a half. And by the second day, she'd had dark circles under her eyes and had been wringing her hands and practically growling at anyone who dared to speak to her.

It was the way her head would tilt and her eyes would soften at the strangest times, even if Maura were in the middle of a dissertation on some random subject.

It was the timbre of her voice, the way she smiled.

It was the way she leaned towards her friend when Maura visited at her desk.

It was the sheer panic in her eyes as he watched her pacing the length of their desks like a caged animal, the way her hands shook as she dragged them through her hair, the way Jane, the consummate cop, deserted all her training and promised strangers anything in exchange for Maura's life.

He rubbed Maura's back. "She's clueless about feelings. Probably doesn't even realize how she feels. But she feels it."

"It won't matter – none of it will mater if – "

"She'll be okay," he said. "I'll kick her ass if she's not."

Maura's laugh was half snort and half sob, but it did the trick. He glanced down to see her smiling.

"Don't tell her I came," he said. "She'll freak out."

"You know I don't lie."

He sighed. "Yeah, all right. At least tell her I didn't see her."

"You didn't."

"There you go," he said.

She released a long breath. "Thank you."

He nodded, swallowing the belated lump in his throat. "Yeah," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**The More Things Change**, Part 6 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Though a little bit shorter than the previous parts, this is probably my favorite scene in the first half of the story. It definitely was one of my favorite scenes to write.

* * *

><p>She was staring at the clock, guiltily grateful that Mr. and Mrs. Rizzoli had left her to her uninterrupted vigil while they were occupied with planning for Frankie's impending discharge, when she heard it.<p>

"Uhhhhgh."

Her head snapped around to find bleary brown eyes staring at her, a good six hours before the doctors had expected her to begin to throw off the sedation.

"Jane!" She reached out and impulsively grabbed her friend's hand, fighting mightily for control of her lacrimal gland. She could cry later. "Jane…." Her eyes filled with tears anyway; it was a shame, of course, that no one could control the amygdala. "Hi."

Still heavily drugged, it took several seconds for Jane to formulate a response, but it didn't matter. Her hazy "…hi…" was one of the loveliest things Maura had ever heard.

"How do you feel?"

She felt Jane's fingers tighten and returned the squeeze with a smile that faded when she saw the urgency, the worry, in her eyes. "F…Frank…kie?"

"He's fine." She looked down and was surprised to find that she had reached out and begun stroking Jane's hair. She froze and awkwardly wrapped both hands around one of hers. "He's going to be fine."

Jane slumped back and closed her eyes with a relieved sigh.

"He's better than you are, actually. They're going to discharge him tomorrow."

"B…. M…ari…no?"

"Dead."

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Jane caught her eye and whispered, "…_ow_."

"I know," Maura said unhappily, restraining herself from pointing out that abdominal gunshots were considered the most painful from which to recover. "I know."

Jane stared at her for a long moment, her eyes unreadable, then frowned. "L…look like…hell."

She chuckled tearfully. Trust Jane to focus on that. "Hallucinations begin at day four," she said. "I'm expecting them any minute."

She had a brief, horrifying thought that perhaps this conversation was a hallucination, and then scolded herself for being so irrational.

Despite her injuries, the medication, and the four days of unconsciousness, the censure in her voice was clear and deliberate. "M-Maura."

"Seeing your best friend shoot herself in the stomach…i-it ruins your week, Jane."

Maura gradually became aware that she was shaking; she was suddenly aware that she was still wearing that faded Celtics t-shirt and that her hair, now sadly bedraggled and in need of another wash, was still pulled back in a loose ponytail. "Especially when you're a pathologist and you know all of the horrible ways wounds like that…."

Her throat clogged with tears; she had to stop.

"S-sorry. Had to." Jane's eyes begged for her understanding. "Frankie."

"I know." Maura sighed and looked away. "If I'd have been able to catch up…I could have told you he was already…."

Jane squeezed her hand, forcing her to look back. Her eyes were wide and tinged with something desperate. "Don't…no crying."

"S-sorry. I – I know you don't like it when…."

It took a long time for her to formulate the sentence. "…I feel better…kick your ass…blaming yourself…."

She had to chuckle. "Okay."

They sat there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Jane squeezed her fingers again; when she looked back at her, Maura found that her eyes were drifting closed.

"T…tired."

Again she found her hand moving without her conscious permission as it reached out and gently tugged a lock of Jane's hair. "It's okay. Sleep."

There was a long silence.

"S-stay?"

The hesitant vulnerability in her voice wrung Maura's heart. "I – I…they're making us take turns. But someone will always be with you." She gently squeezed her friend's shoulder. "You'll never be alone."

"Nuh uh. Stay."

She'd opened her mouth to protest further when she heard someone gently clearing their throat and glanced at the door. Angela Rizzoli was standing there, a faint smile on her face. There were tears pooled in her eyes, but she caught Maura's gaze and nodded.

She almost couldn't force the words out. "Okay." She sniffed. "I'm not going anywhere."

Silence settled over the room, then: "Maura?"

"Hmm?"

Jane sighed. "Ow."

"I know."

She shook her head slightly. "…no…" Her eyes drifted down to their joined hands with a faint frown.

Maura looked down; she jerked her hands away when she realized she was holding on so tightly that Jane's fingers were becoming pale from lack of circulation. "Sorry," she muttered.

A moment later, she felt a feather-light touch on her hand and saw that Jane was trying to reach out for her. "Don't…go…." Her eyes fluttered closed then open again. "Just…easy…."

Maura didn't trust herself to speak; she just closed her fingers gently around Jane's. After a few minutes, when she was sure she was fully asleep, she pulled her chair closer to the bed, rested her head on her arms, and just breathed.

The tension she'd carried the past four days began to fade as muscles all over her body began to relax; she didn't even notice as she crossed the line from waking to sleeping.


	7. Chapter 7

**The More Things Change**, Part 7 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: In which Maura begins to learn what it means to have Angela Rizzoli for a mother... Also, the site is not letting me reply to any of the reviews I got for Chapter 6, but please be aware that I appreciated each and every one of them. I'm glad everyone is enjoying this story - it was a blast to write and I would have been happy enough just to keep it on my Kindle for myself, but the fact that it's making so many other people happy is too awesome for words. :-)

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><p>Her girls.<p>

Angela smiled faintly as she leaned against the doorframe of Jane's room several hours later.

Jane was sleeping peacefully – not the motionless drugged sleep of the past four days, but real, genuine sleep – and Maura was slumped forward on the side of her bed, also out cold.

Frank was settling Frankie in at home in his old bedroom, with a promise to come back and see Jane as soon as he'd gotten hold of his sister or a neighbor to sit with their son.

A nurse passed by, paused, and went on her way while Angela watched. There was something so calming, so peaceful, about the scene in front of her that she was loathe to interrupt it.

The nurse passed by again, shot her a mild glare, and stalked away.

Jane sighed in her sleep; Maura responded by tightening the grip she had on her hand. Angela thought she might just melt into a puddle then and there.

Footsteps approached her from behind, slowed, then finally stopped. "Mrs. Rizzoli," the nurse said, a veneer of gentleness covering her obvious irritation, "we really do need to check your daughter's vital signs and change the dressings on her wounds."

Though she hated to do it, she sighed and nodded. "Fine. Just…give me a couple of minutes." The nurse scowled but nodded. She crossed the room and rested a gentle hand on Maura's back.

She jerked awake and then gasped. "Oh!"

"Shhh, honey, it's okay. The nurse needs to…."

She stopped speaking as Maura slowly sat up and stretched, her eyes going wide as she stopped in mid-motion with a frown. "Ow."

"C'mon…stand up. Slowly." To the questioning look, she added, "I have three children, Maura. Not one of them is the type to stay at home and knit. I've done this before." She rubbed her back. "I know it hurts, but it will feel better if you walk around."

"N…but, Jane – " She shook her head to clear it, swallowing, and frowned in the direction of the bed. "I promised her she wouldn't wake up alone." She glanced at her friend, noting the signs of REM sleep – and now, a nightmare, to judge by her furrowed brow and rapid breathing. Her heart rate and blood pressure were both elevated. "She's dreaming."

The nurse, who had followed Angela into the room, sighed, more than a little impatiently. "Then wake her up and tell her. I've got things that need to be done."

Maura took a step towards the bed, then froze and glanced at Angela for permission. Charmed, she smiled and waved a hand in Jane's direction.

She leaned close to her friend and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Jane?"

She jumped, and she let out a pained hiss as her eyes flew open, darting around in utter panic. "Jane," Maura said, a little more urgently, "it's okay. You were having a dream."

She groaned, reaching up to rub her face with her hand, only to freeze in mid-motion with a gasp. She forced her eyes open, and groaned for a different reason. "Ma…you gonna yell at me?"

"Not now," Angela said with a dark look, "but trust me, it's coming."

She glanced back at Maura. "Wh…?"

"The nurse needs to check your wounds." Her eyes met Jane's. "She asked us to leave, but I didn't want you to…."

Her lips moved in a slight smile. "Thanks." Maura squeezed her hand and turned to go, but froze when she heard Jane call her name. "What?"

Jane glanced at her mother, waiting at the door, and then back. "You – you're…coming back, right?"

Maura smiled. "Of course."

At that, Angela frowned and came back to Jane's bedside. "Don't you think she should go home and get some sleep? It's been four days, Jane."

That she had also been at the hospital for four days straight was beside the point.

Torn, Jane glanced between the two of them, her eyes lingering on Maura's disheveled appearance. "I…."

"I'll be all right," Maura insisted. "Really. And you've been up as long as I have."

Angela avoided the dark glare she was now getting from the nurse and came back into the room. "You haven't slept in – "

"I was asleep when you came in here."

"Passing out face first into a hospital bed isn't the same thing!"

Jane couldn't help but grin as she watched Angela turning her own particular brand of mothering on Maura, but then her better sense caught up with her.

"Maura," she said hoarsely. "Hey!"

Maura stopped and sighed.

Jane reached out weakly, smiling when Maura took her hand. "Go home. Get some sleep. Ma can stay here and yell at me while you do."

Maura sniffled. "I – I would like to have some proper shoes. My feet are cold."

Jane tried to crane her neck to look but groaned and slumped back onto her pillow.

"She borrowed a pair of your flip flops."

Jane blinked. "She what?"

"She borrowed a pair of your flip flops."

"No, really…she what?"

"She – "

"Doctor Maura Isles is wearing _flip flops_?" She tried again to look, with even less success. "Ma, you better the hell have taken pictures of this."

Maura lightly slapped her shoulder.

She grinned, but her mood shifted as the nurse cleared her throat. She grew serious as she met Maura's eyes. "Honey, go home and get some sleep. I…it'll be okay."

Angela turned her head slightly to hide her grin; now wasn't the time.

Maura sighed. "Only for a few hours."

She opened her mouth to say more but stopped when the nurse announced, "If you guys don't get out of here, I'll start enforcing the visiting rules."

"Better go," Jane said. "'Sides, this is gonna suck, and you guys don't wanna see that."

"I'm a pathologist," Maura protested. "I've seen worse."

"Not what I meant," Jane said, eyeing the nurse in obvious trepidation. "Go on."

Reluctantly, Maura followed Angela out the door. "Come on," she said. "Let's go get some coffee, and then I'll have Frank drive you home. He was on his way back here anyway."

They walked together to an ancient vending machine and filled two Styrofoam cups with what might, charitably, have once been called coffee. Even Angela, who generally preferred her coffee black, had to add sugar and cream. "Sorry I had to wake you up," she said to Maura, handing her the creamer.

"It's all right. I shouldn't have – "

"Of course you should have stayed." Off the confused look, she added, "I don't care what makes Jane feel better, as long as it does." She shrugged. "She needed you there, and you were there for her. So thank you."

Maura sighed and stirred her coffee, glancing wistfully back towards the Intensive Care Unit.

Angela winced as she swallowed a mouthful of truly horrible coffee, watched her for a moment, and then asked quietly, "You have feelings for her, don't you?"

She looked away, stuttering, "I – I – "

"It's okay if you do," Angela said gently. "Janie's pretty lovable, when she's not being a stubborn idiot."

"It's very…new…to me."

"So you've never had feelings for…?"

"No."

Angela tilted her head speculatively. "Does Jane?"

She knew the answer, of course; how could she not? Her daughter had just used the word 'honey.' To another human being. Without a trace of irony.

But it couldn't hurt to see if Maura knew, right?

"I…I don't know."

"You don't? I thought you were a body language expert? That seems like the kind of thing body language would tell you."

Maura shook her head. "Jane's a very complex person."

"And you've been afraid to find out." Maura shifted uncomfortably. "Jane cares a lot about you."

"That doesn't mean…."

"No, maybe not. But we'll find out."

She cheerfully ignored Maura's wince. Her kids always pretended to be annoyed when she played matchmaker; why should she expect her newest addition to be any different?


	8. Chapter 8

**The More Things Change**, Part 8 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: I borrowed the baseball shirt thing from several conversations janerizzoli and mauraisles had on Twitter in the fall (I think). Also, the flashback was going to be its own story, but I put it in here instead. My stories tend to exist in the same universe-within-a-universe, and I already established that Maura didn't actually sleep in her guest room with Jane in "See One, Do One, Teach One," so I figured I'd give them their first...first time...here, so to speak.

Also, still can't respond to reviews. Grr.

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><p>Jane wasn't entirely surprised to see Maura reclining in a chair next to her hospital bed when she woke up, her mother's haranguing still echoing in her ears, though she felt a twinge of guilt at the idea that she had forgone a nap at home and had instead camped out in a hospital chair.<p>

It could have been much worse, she knew. For one thing, Maura wasn't likely to yell at her. For another, she wouldn't have to pretend she wasn't hurting.

It was, in fact, a reprieve, though she knew her mother was far from finished. In a dark, morbid way, she had to admit that she was glad Frankie was taking up half of her mother's attention.

She couldn't help worrying about her friend, though – she had deep, dark circles under her eyes and, although she had clearly gone home to take a shower and change her clothes, she was far from her usual fashion spread self.

In fact, she was wearing the softball shirt she had repeatedly borrowed from Jane over the prior summer.

She'd noticed when it had finally disappeared around October, but had let the matter drop – so what if Maura had stolen it? Maybe she'd always wanted one; hell, maybe she'd wanted to play softball as a kid, only to be steered to more 'ladylike' fake sports?

She watched Maura for a while, allowing her mind to drift. She couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her friend, watching as she slept, snoring slightly. She'd had an airline-style neck pillow at some point, but it had slipped from its place and lay on her lap.

She'd learned Maura snored the first time she'd spent the night at Jane's apartment.

_Jane had done a double- and then a triple-take when she trudged into the Dirty Robber that night just shy of closing time._

_Though they'd gone out for drinks occasionally ever since Hoyt had steamrollered his way back into her life, she'd never known Maura to drink alone – and if she did, it sure as hell wasn't in a cops' dive bar._

_It had taken hours of debriefing before they'd finally let her leave; in fact, they'd kept her, as the officer of record, longer than they'd kept Maura, even though she'd just as involved in taking Leahy down as Jane had._

_Her only consolation had been the utterly miserable look on Grant's face as she'd left him to his paperwork and the press._

"_Hey," she said as she slid into the booth._

"_Hi," Maura said quietly. Too quietly._

"_You okay?"_

_She twirled her wine glass by the stem. "No."_

"_Leahy?"_

_Maura shrugged._

"_He had a gun to your head. Makes sense to freak out."_

"_It's not that," Maura said, tearing a paper napkin into tiny, neat little squares._

_Jane caught the bartender's eye and waited for him to deliver a bottle of beer as she contemplated what to say. "You had to do it," she finally said. "He would've killed both of us for figuring it out."_

_Maura took a sip of her wine and frowned. "How did you know…?"_

_Jane rolled her eyes. "You apologized to the spider you accidentally stepped on the other day."_

"_I did?"_

_It should have been annoying, but as time went on, she was finding Maura's quirks less and less annoying and more and more endearing. "Yeah, you did."_

_An awkward silence fell; Jane didn't know quite what to say. She tapped her fingers on the table, and, flailing for a topic, asked, "Hey, did you ever talk to Marfan Man?"_

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><p><em>Jane waited until Grant was safely out of earshot; no sense in giving him ammunition to use against Maura. "So what's bugging you?"<em>

"_I took an oath, Jane." She lifted the glass of wine halfway to her lips before she sighed and put it down again. "I harmed someone today."_

"_Someone who would have killed you."_

"_It doesn't matter."_

_Jane frowned. "Sure it does. It's the difference between self-defense and assault."_

"_I swore I would never – "_

"_Maura, stop." Jane grabbed the wine glass before she could take another sip, belatedly noticing her faintly unsteady movements and the way her eyes were slightly glazed over. "How many of these have you had?"_

"_I don't remember."_

_At that, Jane tossed a few bills onto the table and stood decisively. "Come on."_

"_Where are we going?" Maura asked, but she followed docilely enough._

"_Home."_

"_I can't drive."_

"_**My** home. We'll come back for your car tomorrow."_

"_But – "_

"_It's almost two in the morning. Just come on."_

_Maura followed her into the parking lot and over to her car, stumbling once or twice on the uneven asphalt. Jane looked at her more closely, debated internally for a few seconds, and finally went with the blunt approach: "You drunker than I thought, or just tired?"_

_Maura sank down into the car seat. "A little of both, I think."_

_Jane sat next to her and started the engine. "Aren't you the one who's always telling me not to drink my stress away?" Maura nodded miserably, and Jane took pity on her with a sigh. "Yeah, all right," she said. "Just relax. If you're gonna puke, let me know, okay?"_

_Maura nodded, gulping uneasily._

_Looking to distract her, Jane asked, "You running the marathon again this year?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Training already?"_

"_Yes."_

"_You don't run alone, do you?"_

"_Usually, yes."_

_Jane frowned. "You, uh, carry pepper spray or something, right?"_

"_Of course."_

_Jane parallel parked and walked around to passenger side door to open it for her friend. "You should – you should do it with me," Maura said enthusiastically._

"_I should…what?"_

"_Run the marathon with me. We should do something that doesn't involve bad guys or murder. C'mon, Jane, it'll be fun."_

_Running._

_Everyone assumed – what with her long legs and athletic build – that she would be a good runner. And she was, for short distances. The length of her legs gave her a natural advantage for sprinting, but she hated long races; what could be more boring than running around a track a hundred times?_

_Jane opened her mouth with every intention of saying no, so no one was more surprised than she was when she said, "Sure. Sounds fun."_

"_Great!" Maura grinned widely, but then her expression froze and she gulped. "Jane…."_

"_Yep, bathroom, got it," she said as she tugged her friend up the stairs._

"_Hurry."_

_The moment Jane shoved the door open, Maura kicked off her heels and took off at a dead run._

_Jane winced at the audible retching coming from her bathroom, but busied herself by saying hello to Jo Friday, putting away her own things, and setting Maura's shoes next to her purse by the door. Having stalled long enough, she went back towards the bathroom and knocked gently on the door._

"_Hey?"_

_The only response was a quiet groan and more retching._

_Jane shook her head and eased the door open, wincing a little. She started water running in the sink and dampened a washcloth, then grabbed a scrunchie and knelt next to her friend._

_She pulled Maura's hair into a ponytail and rubbed her back, handing her the washcloth when she sighed as her stomach finally settled._

"_Please don't ever let me do that again," she moaned._

"_Why doesn't it surprise me that you never got trashed at a party in college?"_

_Maura just stared at her._

"_C'mon," she said, pulling Maura to her feet. "I'm sure I've got some shorts or something you can sleep in."_

_A few minutes later, she returned from a quick walk with Jo to find Maura holding a pillow and looking in her linen closet. "Oh, give me a break," she said. "You are not sleeping on the couch. I got plenty of room."_

"_But – "_

"_Maura, I just watched you throw up. Freaking out about sleeping in the same bed is kinda a moot point at this point, you know?"_

"_But Jane – "_

"_Seriously, just lay down and go to sleep. You're gonna be miserable enough in the morning without having slept on my lumpy old couch." She handed over a bottle of Gatorade. "Keep that by you."_

_Maura reluctantly lay down. "What…?"_

"_Trust me. You'll want that."_

"_No, I know – dehydration is a common result of…." She lost the thought and shook her head faintly. "What are you…?"_

"_Pajamas, Maura."_

_When Jane came back from brushing her teeth and changing her clothes, she flipped the lights off and padded back to the room. Maura lay on her back, eyes closed, and she assumed her friend was already asleep._

_Fortunately, she heard Maura draw a long breath, so she wasn't startled when she heard her voice. "Jane?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_I know he would've killed me, but I hate that I had to hurt him."_

_Jane stared up at the darkness, aching for her. "I know."_

"_There was no other way?"_

"_I don't think so, no."_

"_Why doesn't that make me feel any better?"_

_Jane rolled her head to the side, even though she could barely see her friend. "'Cause you're a good person, Maura."_

"_That still doesn't make me feel any better."_

"_I know."_

_It had taken time for Maura to fall asleep, but Jane forced herself to stay awake until she had. When she heard Maura begin to snore slightly, she grinned, plopped a pillow over her head, and burrowed down into the covers._

Jane smiled at the memory, but after a few minutes, she realized that Maura's head was resting at what had to be an excruciating angle. She spent some time wondering whether she should wake her up or not.

Her thoughts felt slow, sluggish. She knew that under better circumstances, she'd have already made her decision, acted, and had found some way to joke away the guilt burning in her gut.

But for now, all she could do was muddle her way through the fog in her head.

Then, as she watched, Maura's brow furrowed and she began to mutter to herself. "No. No!"

Maura called her name, panicked, and her heart lurched. There was a suspicious stinging in her eyes.

"Maura!" she said as loudly as her bruised ribs would allow. "Maura! Hey, wake up!"

There was no response, so she fumbled for the button that would raise the head of the bed and tried to reach for her, only for the world to go gray with agony for a long, long moment.

"Plan B," she muttered to herself, reaching carefully with her left hand and getting hold of a box of tissues sitting on the bed stand. She aimed carefully and tossed it into her friend's lap.

Maura jerked awake; her hand flew up to her neck with a pained hiss.

"Hey," Jane said. "I tried to wake you up…you didn't hear me. You were having a dream."

She groaned and rubbed her face, then stretched, trying to wake herself up. "Sorry."

"No, don't – God, don't apologize. Geez. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I didn't wake you up?"

"No, but…hell, Maura, even if you had…." She sighed. "Thanks for coming back."

"I did promise."

"Yeah." Jane glanced away, then back. "Maura?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened with Tommy? Ma wouldn't say…but when she was yelling, she slipped and said somethin' about losing three kids all in one day."

Maura sighed. "He called her but never showed up. They haven't heard from him since." She frowned as Jane's face fell. "I'm sorry, Jane."

"Not your fault." She sniffed. "That idiot."

Maura reached out and took Jane's hand, eyeing the heart monitor worriedly. "Jane – " She broke off and shrugged, not knowing what to say. Instead, she focused on the monitor, willing the now-erratic beats to steady.

Finally, they evened out and Jane smiled crookedly. "Sorry." She squeezed Maura's hand reassuringly. "How 'bout them Red Sox?" The joke fell flat, and Jane stared at her, disbelieving. "Seriously?"

"What?"

"You've seriously never heard…?"

Maura shrugged.

"Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

Despite herself, Jane grinned. "Careful, Doctor Isles. I might ask you to wear stripes and polka dots."

Maura snorted and lightly shoved her friend's shoulder. "Jane."

"Next time you go home, stop by my place and bring my laptop and my DVD case. We gotta expand your pop culture horizons."


	9. Chapter 9

**The More Things Change**, Part 9 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Hey, lookee there, uploading works again! Also, I tossed in a one-line tribute to my favorite FF writer, whose work I've been following since, I think, late 1997. Her work got me through writing a truly horrible paper – I'd write a sentence, read a paragraph, write a sentence...

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><p>Maura was watching the family drama currently unfolding before her in amused fascination. Although she appreciated – more than appreciated, really – the consideration that the Rizzolis had shown her, it was almost a relief to see them behaving in what she had always taken as their normal manner.<p>

Mrs. Rizzoli was angrily pacing the length of Jane's bed, stopping only to turn and glare at her daughter. "Well, of course you're coming home with us."

"Ma…no."

She completed another few laps before stopping again. "Why not?"

"For one thing, you got stairs. And my room's _upstairs_." She paused, then closed her eyes and admitted, "I can't."

"Well, y-you can stay downstairs."

"You don't have a _bed_ downstairs."

"We'll figure something out."

Jane glanced at Maura in pathetic appeal.

She took care to pause; it wouldn't do to seem as though she'd rehearsed any of this. Most people found it odd that she did so.

Jane had caught her at it once, in her office, and had tilted her head and stared at her for a long moment before saying with a shrug, "At least now I know why you've always got a comeback."

"It wouldn't be safe, Mrs. – Angela," she said. "To use your shower, she would have to step into the tub. It's at least eighteen inches, with nothing to hold onto to…steady…herself."

It was only at the end of her speech that she noticed the baffled look she was getting from Jane and slowed to a stop.

"How do you know _that_?"

The memory – of the eerie, muffled sound of the gunshot, of the long, terrible hours of waiting to find out if Jane would make it through each surgery – still made her profoundly uncomfortable. "The night…or, the evening…."

"I took her home to wash up. She was covered in blood."

Jane paled, glancing from one to the other. "From Frankie? You weren't…before. You didn't tell me he…?"

Maura drew in a deep breath. "From you, Jane," she said quietly. "You were bleeding out. We were waiting for the paramedics, and I – "

She grinned triumphantly. "See? I toldja you could do it."

"I was thinking – " Maura began…

…only to be overrun by Mrs. Rizzoli. "I could give you sponge baths."

"Eww, Ma, no!"

"You could always – "

"What?" she said, interrupting again. "It's not like I've never done it before. Remember that time you broke your arm when you jumped out of your tree house?"

Jane scowled. "I _fell_, Ma, because Tommy and Frankie were wrestling around like idiots and knocked me outta my own damn tree house!"

"Don't blame your brothers. I told you that thing wasn't safe."

She cast her eyes to the ceiling and grunted in profound irritation. Her expression gentled slightly when her father approached and touched her knee. "We'd love to have you, Janie. And you have stairs too, you know."

She sighed. "I know I do, Pop. But I only have to get up _them_ once."

Maura waved her hands in a weak bid for attention. "I don't have any – "

Angela overrode her again. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you're coming home. Who else is going to take care of you?"

Maura saw the dangerous glint appear in Jane's eye; there was no persuading her now. There rarely was when Jane felt ill or weakened in any way; pointing it out, she had learned, was the surest way to make sure Jane refused any care.

"I don't need to be taken care of!"

Angela leaned closer, right into her face, very much like her daughter would have. "You can hardly stand up! You've been _shot_!"

She shook her head incredulously. "I _know_ that, Ma. I pulled the damn trigger myself, remember?"

"I remember, and don't make the mistake of thinking we're finished with _that_ subject, young lady." She deflated and sighed. "You're hurt so badly, Janie."

The volume at which Maura's next statement burst from her throat surprised even her. "_She could stay with me!_"

Utter silence.

"It's the most logical solution." She glanced at Jane and made the invitation formal: "You could stay with me."

Jane's lips twitched as she saw the looks her parents were exchanging.

Maura lifted a hand and began ticking off the positive attributes of her home.

"I have plenty of room," she was saying, "and a guest bedroom with a full bathroom on the ground floor."

Jane sighed and covered her face with one hand to hide her amused grin from her parents, who were baffled by the sudden flood of utter logic.

"I have a significant amount of vacation time accrued."

She, of course, was used to it.

"Jo Friday and Bass get along."

"Who's Bass?" Mr. Rizzoli asked. "Your boyfriend?" He saw the look he was getting from Angela and recoiled defensively. "What?"

Jane shook her head. "It's her turtle, Pop."

"_Tortoise_."

She shook her head in tolerant amusement. "God, woman, I swear I'm gonna name mine Turtle so you'll stop yellin' at me when I call him that."

"I thought you were going to name him Watson?"

"That only makes sense if I have a Sherlock, and I don't need any more pets."

"It would be an efficient solution," Maura agreed. "It's been almost two years. You really should name him _something_." She glanced at Jane. "And I'm beginning to think you're doing that on purpose."

Her parents forgotten for the moment, Jane grinned. "Could be. I name the tortoise Turtle, I'll need a new one." Her eyes glittered. "Maybe I'll stop calling raisins 'raisins' and start calling them 'dried grapes.'"

Maura's eyes went wide in a burst of linguistic horror. "But, Jane…."

"We're family, Jane."

She jumped and looked back at her mother, suddenly realizing that she was still there.

She also noticed the barely perceptible flinch and pointed at Maura stubbornly. "So's she. She's my best friend."

Maura perked up at that, but Angela stopped pacing and stared at her. "What adult woman has a 'best friend'?" she demanded. "I haven't called anyone my 'best friend' since I was twelve years old."

Jane snorted. "Oh, Carla Talucci is your best friend and you know it."

"And have you ever heard me _call_ her that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, _I _call _her_ that, and since I'm the one with holes in me, I get to make the rules. And willya take a minute and quit bein' so stubborn and think about what you're saying?"

Angela shifted uncomfortably, noticing Jane's quick glance in Maura's direction.

"Two days ago, you were telling me Maura was family."

Angela sighed. "She is. She is. I just – I'm your _mother_, and if someone is gonna take care of you, it should be me."

"Mrs. Rizzoli – "

"I thought I told you to call me Angela."

Jane snorted. "After you just dissed her?"

"Stay out of this," Angela snapped.

Jane's eyes widened. "We're arguing _about me_. No, I will not stay out of this!"

Angela sighed. "I'm sorry, Maura. Jane's right. You _are_ family. You saved my babies." Her eyes softened; her posture followed suit. Finally, she crossed the room and put a hand on Maura's shoulder. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I suppose…if she can't be with me…it would be good to know Janie was with a doctor."

Maura shifted uncomfortably. "I-I'm a pathologist. I don't work on…living…patients."

"Uh, Maura…."

She sighed at Jane's interruption, but conceded, "Except under extreme circumstances."

"So it's settled then," Angela said. "I'll need a key to your house, Maura, of course."

"Ma!"

"That seems reasonable."

"Maura!"


	10. Chapter 10

**The More Things Change**, Part 10 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: It turns out that when you work with people who are trained to notice things, they...notice things. :-)

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><p>It was interesting, Maura reflected, that as someone's condition improved, the hospital staff became more and more adamant about following regulations regarding visiting hours.<p>

When Jane had been in ICU and had still been listed as critical, more often than not, the hospital staff simply looked the other way.

Now that she was a day from discharge, the nurses chased them out the moment visiting hours were over in the morning, and again at eight at night.

"Be back at dinner time," Frankie said, and Maura waved a friendly good-bye she followed him out of Jane's room.

"Frankie," she said as they neared the elevator, "I need a favor."

"For you?" he said. "Anything."

The look he gave her was one that she would be forced to characterize as hero worship, and it made her profoundly uncomfortable. Though she hadn't been exactly close with the rest of the Rizzoli family before the shooting, she had begun to feel, at least tentatively, accepted into their fold.

She had, after all, begun to spend the occasional Sunday dinner with them, and had been invited to their Fourth of July picnic. The prior Christmas, Jane had all but forced her to ask someone else to cover the holiday shift – which she'd traditionally taken, having no family nearby – so that she could celebrate with the Rizzoli family.

It had taken time, but she'd gradually begun to feel more or less comfortable with their boisterousness, their unpredictability, and even with Angela's blunt charm.

Frankie, on the other hand, shared his sister's casual skill with people, and she'd begun to consider him a friend, so to be o the receiving end of those star-struck looks was something more than unnerving.

In fact, it had taken only one of them for her to decide that she had liked it better when Frankie was trying to get her to play basketball.

Finally, she recovered voice. "It was Jane, you know. She's the one who convinced me I could do it."

He shrugged. "You still did it. You saved my life." He glanced sideways at her. "And my sister's."

"I didn't – "

"You're not gonna tell me you weren't the first one to get to her side?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Have you been talking to Vince?"

He shrugged unrepentantly. "You gonna tell me you weren't the first one to give her first aid? To get ready to do the same…surgery…on her that you did on me?"

"Well, but – "

"Anything you want." He leaned closer with a conspiratorial grin. "I'll even steal Mom's lasagna recipe for you."

Knowing Jane as she did, she had some idea of just how profound a statement that was. "You've only been out of the hospital for three days…are you planning on going back?"

He chuckled, and she was pleased her joke had been phrased appropriately; so often her attempts at levity fell flat, and, even more often, utterly serious statements would be taken as jokes.

"So Janie told you about Mom's lasagna recipe, huh?"

"She's made me her version, but says your mother's is better – that there's some secret ingredient she won't tell Jane about."

Frankie closed his eyes and grinned, an expression that could almost be called 'love struck' if he hadn't been thinking about food. "Ma's lasagna is…ambrosia."

"Ambrosia is actually a term from Greek mythology, not – " She paused, noticing his wide-eyed stare. "Sorry."

He shrugged. "It's cool. I've kinda gotten used to it. Last…I mean, our last Sunday dinner…before…Jane went all Google on us about something you told her about."

"It's less…dangerous…than stealing any recipes from your mother," she said. "I need to rent a car."

"You have a car."

They walked together through the parking lot, stopping at Maura's car. She opened the passenger side door for Frankie. "Sit down."

He did so, though he glanced at her with a puzzled frown. She didn't miss the flinch as he did, so it was with some regret that she said quietly, "Now stand up."

He winced as he began to haul his body up out of the bucket seat. Halfway up, he gulped and paled, grabbing for the doorframe. "See?" she said, not unkindly. "It's too low to the ground. It hurt you – Jane's injuries are much worse."

"I get it," he said hoarsely. "And her car's…. But why me?"

"You're about the same height," she said. "It's a valid comparison." What she didn't say, but what they both knew, was that if it hurt Frankie, it would be torture for Jane – who would tough her way through it on principle.

He glanced at her. "So we're…what…going to ask if we can…test-sit the car?"

"Yes."

He shook his head at her enthusiasm and shrugged. "Sure. Why not? But I'm driving." He pointed to her car. "Cool as that is, I'm not riding in that for a long time."

Maura glanced at him. "In exchange for coming with me, you're welcome to borrow it as soon as you're feeling up to it."

Frankie grinned.

* * *

><p>Frankie let Maura take the lead at first, but it quickly became apparent that she was in way over her head. Finally, he approached the counter and broke in with a friendly, "Hey buddy? You watch the news?"<p>

The clerk frowned. "Yeah. Why?"

"You see the detective that shot a dirty cop through her own body to end a hostage standoff?"

The clerk nodded with an admiring grin. "Yeah. That was badass."

"Well, that badass is my big sister," Frankie said, "and she hurt herself bad. We just wanna make sure she's as comfortable as she can be when she's released from the hospital tomorrow."

"That makes sense, I guess. But doesn't she have a car?"

"Full of bullet holes," Frankie said. "And she can't drive yet. We need a car that'll be easy for her to get into and out of."

"She gonna be okay?"

"Mostly."

The clerk finally smiled. "Wow. You know," he said, "my brother-in-law is a cop. SWAT. He spent all of Sunday dinner last week raving about her. Said it was the bravest thing he'd ever seen."

Frankie smiled weakly. Brave? Maybe. He suspected it had been desperation more than anything, and he was still plenty angry over the whole thing. This was hardly the place for that discussion, though.

"Said she did it so the cops could get to her brother, who was bleeding to d…was that _you_?"

Frankie lifted his t-shirt, displaying the stitches and fading bruises.

"Holy crap!" the clerk blurted.

"So can we check out your cars?"

His attitude having done a one hundred eighty degree turn, the clerk smiled. "Any of them you want. I'll bring the keys." He followed them to the door. "And the rental's on me."

"Oh, I can't let you do that!" Maura protested. "I expect to need it for at least a few weeks."

"Wait…why do _you_ need it?"

"She's a friend of my sister's," Frankie said, cutting off Maura's response. "And the doctor who saved both of our lives. Janie's gonna stay at her house while she gets better – no stairs to walk up."

The clerk eyed Maura for a few moments, while Frankie prayed he wouldn't ask any intrusive questions. Frankie had his own theories, of course, but if asked, Maura would tell the God's honest truth, and he didn't want that for Jane.

After all, who wanted to know that someone first said "I love you" to a car rental drone?

Finally, he nodded and answered the prior question: "My brother-in-law would kick my ass if he heard I'd let you pay for it."

Maura smiled graciously. "Well, thank you very much."

She and Frankie wandered the lot for a good fifteen minutes. Most of the SUVs were too tall – reaching up to grab hold of the doorframe to get in was exceedingly uncomfortable – and most of the cars were too short.

Finally, in the very back of the lot, he found it. Shorter than the SUVs, taller than the cars.

He grinned. "Hey, Maura! I think this one's perfect!"

It took her a few moments to find him and when she did, she frowned and tilted her head, looking between him and the clerk in befuddlement. "What is that?"

* * *

><p>Jane was sitting in a wheelchair, waiting for her mother to finish with the discharge papers and for her father to finish bringing down the metric ton of flowers that had decorated her room.<p>

Maura had gone to get her car, and she was working hard to distract herself from the burning ache in her stomach and the shooting pains in her back when the bright red Jeep pulled up in front of the hospital's front door.

She watched it idly and then blinked several times in sheer disbelief when Maura hopped out of the driver's seat.

Had they slipped some morphine into that last IV?

"What the hell is that?"

"My rental car," Maura replied brightly as she settled into one of the vinyl chairs in the lobby.

Jane carefully turned the wheelchair so that she was facing her friend. "You _have_ a car," she said. "Why do you need a Jeep?" She frowned. "You don't drive Jeeps. I didn't even think you knew what a Jeep was."

"Well, I – "

"Okay, I mean, of course you know what a Jeep is. You know everything. But – "

"I don't know everything."

"Close enough."

Maura sighed in fond exasperation. "It's the right height. Frankie tested it for you."

"The right…huh?"

Maura leaned forward and tentatively rested her hand on Jane's knee. "Frankie could barely get out of my car, and he's in much better shape than you are. It would…it would hurt you too much."

Jane's eyes softened as she covered Maura's hand with both of hers. "You…rented a car for me?"

"Of course."

She smiled. "Thank you."

Their eyes locked and the world faded for a moment before: "Hey, Janie, everything is ready," Angela called, and they both jerked their hands back as though they had been burned.


	11. Chapter 11

**The More Things Change**, Part 11 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: None, really, that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Sorry for the delay. Fridays are always awful at work, Saturday was taken up with dealing with fraudulent debit card charges, and today was taken up with getting ready for work next week. (Never make the mistake of thinking that education is an eight-to-three, nine-months-a-year job. It's _so_ not.)

Also, the site has been really, _really_ wonky tonight - if any of my replies to reviews didn't go through, sorry.

* * *

><p>So far, she'd made it through the periodic table three times. She'd begun reciting it to herself as she watched Jane, leaning heavily on her father, struggle her way into the car.<p>

They'd driven to her house in silence; Jane was nearly asleep, sharp gasps of pain interspersed with the slower, deeper breathing caused by the slew of medications she would be taking for the immediate future, and Maura was desperately trying to draw a cloak of science around the worry that was threatening to overwhelm her.

She'd always retreated into facts and figures – absolutes – when faced with difficult situations, but after glancing to her right and seeing Jane drifting towards sleep, pale, sweating, and seemingly very fragile, her fourth round guttered into silence around selenium. Her fifth never even made it that far.

She slowed to a crawl when she got to her driveway, easing up the incline and into the garage with the lightest possible touch before she closed the door behind them and shut off the ignition.

"Jane?" she said quietly. "We're here."

She nodded once.

Maura forced herself to ignore her own emotions, as she had done so often over the prior two weeks, and opened the passenger door for her friend, standing back and facing an unusually pale and tentative Jane as she carefully rotated her body so that her legs hung out the passenger door of the Jeep.

Fortunately, the height was just right, and her feet hovered no more than an inch or two off the ground.

The muscles in her face spoke of sheer agony; the only thing Maura could do was look away.

She flinched at every move and hissed in pain several times, but when one last move actually brought a quiet whimper, Maura couldn't take it any longer. "Are you sure you can…?" She tentatively touched Jane's knee. "We can go rent a wheelchair. I'm sure there's a medical supply store somewhere nearby."

As she expected, she grunted and shook her head emphatically. "No way."

Maura sighed. "Jane…it's just another way to get _there_ from _here_." She tilted her head and brushed her fingers along the sleeve of Jane's jacket; her voice cracked as she said, "You're in pain."

"Just…." The beads of sweat on her temple belied any assertion she might have been about to make about being all right. "Help me…stand up. I can make it."

"But – " Maura gulped a breath. _Hydrogen, helium, lithium, boron – no, beryllium. _"You're…."

She turned away, instinctively shielding Jane from her own upset as her eyes filled with tears. "Damn it."

Jane tried to reach out for her but gasped and jerked her arm back to her side. "Maura…."

_Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, nitrogen – no, no, no. Carbon. _"No, I'm okay, I just…I'm okay."

"No you're not," Jane said, her voice a strange mixture of gentleness and accusation. "And how did you say that without fainting?"

_Hydrogen…helium... _"I'm okay."

She couldn't lie. But she could omit.

"Compared to what?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay."

Jane shifted uncomfortably and consciously tried to lighten the mood. "Is it that lack…gland…thing?"

Maura chuckled weakly, then turned back to face her, tears still pooled in her eyes. "It's the…the 'my best friend in the world almost died a few days ago, and I start crying about it at very inopportune times'…thing."

She saw Jane's eyes go wide, saw her mouth open, and put up a hand to stop her. "Jane, don't. It's not your fault my social circle is…well…what it is."

It barely qualified as a circle, really. She had Jane's family, Vince, Barry, and Jane herself. The longer she'd spent with them, surrounded by their forthright and honest friendship, the less tolerance she'd begun to have for the superficial world in which she'd been raised.

It hadn't been precisely a conscious choice, but it was a choice she'd made nonetheless, and she'd accepted the consequences of it the moment she'd realized she'd made it.

"I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't. It just made the whole thing more…." She tried to say the word "difficult," but it never made it past the lump in her throat.

This time, Jane pushed through the pain, capturing her arm in a light grasp. "I'm sorry."

_Hydrogen…hydrogen…hydrogen…. _She glanced up and felt her face, completely beyond her conscious control, crumple at what she saw.

"Maura?"

Asymmetry. All over her face – her mouth, her eyes. Asymmetry. "You keep saying that, but you're not really, are you?"

Jane's mouth worked for a moment before she came up with an audible response. "I-I'm sorry…that it hurt people I care about. But I did what I had to do. To protect Frankie. And – and you."

"Me? I was – "

"Alone and unarmed in a building with God only knew how many bad guys with guns." She squeezed Maura's arm. "I was already – Frankie was – if you…." She felt herself tearing up and huffed in exasperation. "Damn it, I _don't cry_."

"Not often, no," Maura agreed, her voice shaking. "But a number of studies have – "

"You gonna tell me it's normal to become a crybaby after you've been shot?"

"You're not a – "

"Maura."

She shifted uncomfortably, but finally managed to draw the cloak of science around her with a sense of relief. "Well…yes, actually. It's the physical trauma and post-surgical endorphins, along with chemical imbalances in your neurotransmitters. It can cause both depression and euphoria." She shrugged at Jane's wide-eyed stare and raised eyebrows. "It's quite common. And you're not a crybaby."

"Oh."

Silence fell between them, as Jane gathered her courage to try and stand up. Then she froze in horror when she heard Maura say quietly, almost reflectively, "I saw you do it. Do you remember that?"

"No, I…." She gaped at Maura. "What the hell were you doing out there?"

She regretted her harsh tone immediately when she saw the effect it had on Maura, whose eyes welled with fresh tears. "I…can we talk about this inside?"

Jane sighed. "Okay. But don't think I'll forget."

She carefully edged forward on the seat, gripping the doorframe with white-knuckled intensity. "God," she groaned as her feet hit the ground.

Maura was by her side immediately, reaching out to steady her. "Wait. Let me help." She put her hands over Jane's. "Let me pull you up – don't use your…."

It was too late, of course; Jane was nothing if not independent. She stood up fully before Maura could intervene, leaning against the door with a harsh gasp. Her face went white and for a moment, Maura thought she might just faint.

"_Damn_ it," she grunted.

Maura pressed her lips together, holding in a flurry of medical advice she knew Jane neither needed nor wanted. "Please let me help. I can carry you, if you need me to."

She frowned and shook her head sharply, but couldn't say anything.

"I asked the nurses, at the hospital, to show me how they move patients."

"No, I'll…I'll be okay."

It might have been more convincing if her voice had been more than a raspy whisper.

"Are you sure?"

"No," she sighed, "but let's do it now before I lose my nerve."

* * *

><p>By the time they made it inside, despite Jane's bravado, Maura was carrying most of her weight. She moaned as Maura eased her down onto the couch, and then lay there gasping, her entire body shaking.<p>

Maura began to worry when Jane allowed her to lift her legs up onto the couch and to put a pillow behind her back; for her to admit, even tacitly, that she needed such help meant that the pain must have been excruciating.

Maura was watching her struggle for her composure, hovering around nervously, before she finally sat down on the couch and, noticing some slight swelling, put Jane's feet on her lap.

Finally, Jane gathered enough composure to say hoarsely, "It's okay to be mad at me."

"I'm not mad."

She frowned. "Yes, you are. You should be."

Maura shook her head, sniffling slightly. "I'm not mad."

"Maura."

She sniffled again and pressed a hand to her mouth. Jane's heart sank.

She was hurt.

This was going to be worse than mad.

Finally, Maura turned to look at her; her face was flushed and her chin trembling. "What were you _thinking_? How could shooting your_self_ help them get to Frankie any sooner? How – "

Jane's closed her eyes and she sighed as she muttered to herself, "Crap."

"How did that accomplish anything other than making the hospital have to deal with _two_ critical patients? What did you think you were going to accomplish? How…?"

Jane's heart sank even further when Maura began to cry in earnest.

She grabbed the back of the couch and pulled herself back to a sitting position. Her stomach and back screamed in agony; she grimly ignored it.

She reached for her friend – for her hand, her arm, anything she could reach – and eventually found Maura clutching her hand tightly with both of hers. "Maura…."

She looked at her and insisted through her tears, "I'm not mad."

"I can see that," Jane said in her most gentle voice. "Maura, I – "

"Don't," Maura said, her voice nearly unintelligible. She looked down and closed her eyes, crying quietly for a few more minutes.

Jane felt sick. She hated to see anyone cry, let alone a friend, and to know that she was the cause of this…it was almost more than she could bear.

"Don't apologize," Maura finally said. "I know you'd do it again if you thought you had to. I just…."

Jane forced herself to move her legs, to tug Maura closer to her, so that they were side-to-side and she could look her full in the face.

"But I am sorry," she said, startling even herself when she reached up and brushed a few of the tears away. It hurt like hell to lift her arm, but she hardly noticed. "For…." She found her own eyes getting teary. "I didn't want to hurt you…it was just…it was _Frankie_."

"I understand, Jane, I do."

"Do you?"

Maura smiled a little at having been caught. "I think so."

"But you – " She stopped, trying to find a tactful way of saying what she was thinking. "You don't have – I mean, I know…Colin…but…."

Maura shook her head. "One thing I learned, being adopted? Despite what high society might think, family isn't about blood. It's about how you feel." She looked away, suddenly shy. "If-if it had been you, and Marino had taken me…."

Jane gaped. "You're telling me you'd have shot yourself?"

"I don't know," Maura said helplessly, caught by her own brutal honesty.

"But…?"

"I can't really speculate about something like that – it would depend on the stakes, and the situation, and – "

"Maura!"

"If I was all that was between you and someone saving your life? And that was the only option I had? Maybe." She sighed. "Probably."

Jane didn't know whether to feel honored or horrified.


	12. Chapter 12

**The More Things Change**, Part 12 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: A little discussion of Hoyt in this one. He does things that some may find uncomfortable to read about.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: So, yeah, this is a long one. Once Angela starts meddling and Jane starts blabbing, neither really wants to stop, and there wasn't really a graceful place to put a scene break. Also, I borrowed Jane's friend Susan from the draft script pages that showed up on LJ a while back. Finally, there is a slight reference in the longer flashback to a prior story ("What Friends Are For"). It's in no way necessary to read that first, though.

* * *

><p>If the mere thought of doing so didn't make her whole body tense just from the anticipation of pain, Jane might have jumped straight to her feet upon seeing her mother enter the room.<p>

As it was, she had to restrain her reaction to shifting restlessly and demanding, "Ma…what are you – ?" She cut herself off and moved her glare to Maura. "You really gave her a key?"

Angela was looking at her daughter, who was lying with her head in Maura's lap, her feet resting on the arm of the couch, with a grin and raised eyebrow.

In a voice positively dripping with maternal amusement, she drawled, "Am I…interrupting something?"

Jane flushed and tried to work her elbows up underneath her, intent on sitting up.

Maura, on the other hand, gently pushed her back down and frowned at Mrs. Rizzoli. "This is an optimum recovery position."

Any embarrassment Jane felt immediately vanished as she concentrated on not laughing, having already learned that doing so was extremely painful.

The other eyebrow climbed up and now Angela, who was not nearly as versed in the workings of Maura's brain as Jane was, was staring at them in complete disbelief.

"She was retaining water in her feet," Maura added. "The most effective treatment is elevation."

She couldn't hold it in any longer, but managed to restrain herself to a snort and a light chuckle. Still, she winced. "Ow. Thought we had a rule about making me laugh."

Maura frowned at her, baffled. "I wasn't trying to make you laugh."

Jane grinned and had to force back another laugh, though that faded somewhat when she remembered her mother was still standing there, staring at them.

_In truth, she hadn't even thought about it; once Maura had stopped crying, she'd looked down and frowned severely at Jane's swollen feet. She'd said…something…about water retention and damage to a variety of vital organs, and had insisted that Jane elevate them immediately._

"_Maura, this hurts," Jane had said as she tried to get comfortable on the couch. It had seemed the most natural thing in the world for Maura to slide over and ease Jane's shoulders and head onto her lap to take the pressure off the exit wound on her back._

She glanced at her mother defensively. "My back hurt!"

"Well…if you say so," Angela said, clearly not convinced. "I brought some clothes and some pajamas, and I've got Jo Friday in the car, if you're ready for her."

"Okay, fine." Then she frowned. "Hey, wait, what about my tur-ortoise?"

Maura grinned and slapped her shoulder.

"I'll bring him next time. I gave him some lettuce. Oh, and your neighbor…Melissa?"

Jane winced. "Marissa." If there was anything in her life she didn't need, it was her Marissa chatting with her mother about her stress-induced midnight vacuuming.

"She says she'll get your mail. If you call her with Maura's address, she can bring it by, or you can go pick it up."

"Thanks." Jane eyed her mother speculatively. "And Turtle likes strawberries."

Angela perched on the side of the coffee table and stared at her daughter. "How do you know that? All he does is sit there like a lump in a shell."

Jane poked a thumb in Maura's direction. "Hers does."

She shook her head, then sat there and observed them for a moment. Jane's eyes had drifted closed and Maura's hand was absentmindedly combing through her unruly curls.

Despite the best attempts of one of the nurses, who had taken it as her personal mission to try to wrangle Jane's hair into some semblance of order, it was wild and tangled.

Angela smiled when she realized what Maura was doing: gently pulling apart each knot, untangling her hair by hand.

It was time. She'd been expecting to have this conversation since the day she'd found a heartbroken Jane tearing up pictures of her friend Susan, who had suddenly acquired a new best friend.

"You know, Jane…I've told you before…if you're happy, I'm happy for you."

Her eyes popped open in shock. "Ma! Knock it off!"

That Jane knew immediately what she was talking about was, of course, nothing more than additional ammunition. "Just don't forget that I still want grandchildren."

She scowled and closed her eyes. "Ohmigod," she muttered. "I am not healthy enough for this. Make her stop. Please?"

Maura looked from one to the other and decided discretion was the better part of valor. "I'll go get Jo and take her for a walk while your mother's here."

"Traitor." She moved to sit up, carefully removing her feet from the arm of the couch.

"Wait!" Maura blurted. "Let me help."

Jane's eyebrows furrowed in irritation as she reached for the back of the couch to pull herself up. "I don't need – " She broke off and clenched her hands into tight fists; all the color drained from her face. "_Shit_."

Maura calmly reached out and grasped her hands, pulling her up to a sitting position. Then she leaned forward and caught her friend's eyes. "A bullet," she said, in a tight, clipped voice, "through your stomach. You have muscle damage, nerve damage, organ damage, and damage to your lungs from the hemothorax. You have several _hundred_ internal stitches and several dozen external ones. Next time, let me help."

Jane sighed and reminded herself that none of this was Maura's fault. In fact, it was all _hers_, and Maura certainly didn't deserve to bear the brunt of her frustration.

"Okay. Fine." Her shoulders slumped a little and the tension went out of her face. She caught Maura's fingers for a brief moment, then let go, conscious of her mother's avidly watching eyes. "Thank you."

After Maura left, she found that she couldn't do much more than sit, staring at the floor, and wait for the ambush to begin. She knew, after all, that Angela couldn't leave well enough alone for long. "Jane – "

"Ma. Don't."

"But I – "

Jane shook her head, a genuinely confused look on her face. "I can't…answer your questions, Ma. Any of them. I don't even _know_ the answers."

Angela leaned forward and rested her hands on her daughter's knees. In an uncharacteristically gentle voice, she said, "I do."

"Then why…?"

"I sat with her in that waiting room for _four days_, Jane, waiting for the doctors to let you wake up." She squeezed her daughter's knees and glanced towards the front door, then back. "You're a lucky girl."

Jane closed her eyes in the juvenile but sincere hope that maybe if she couldn't see her mother, her mother wouldn't be able to see her, and muttered, mostly to herself, "I am not having this conversation."

"All I've ever wanted is for someone to care about you and for you to be happy." Angela touched her cheek. "She cares about you. And you're happy. Happier than I've seen you be in a long time."

"Post – " Jane winced when her voice trailed off into a squeak. "Post-surgical endorphins."

"And where did you learn _that_?"

A sigh.

"Janie…I know your father loves me, but he hasn't looked at me like that in years. Maybe ever."

"Shoot yourself in the stomach. Even Carla Talucci will look at you like that."

Angela frowned at the bite to her voice. "I was talking about you. How you look at – "

She suppressed a groan. This couldn't be happening. She wasn't thinking clearly enough for this to be happening. "Give it a rest, Ma," she interrupted, almost desperately. "Please?"

"She loves you, Janie."

Another sigh. "And I lo – " Her mouth snapped closed with an audible click. "Damn Percoset."

Angela smirked. "It's always made you…mouthy."

"You mean it works on me like a damn truth serum." She winced when she realized that she had just essentially confirmed her earlier statement.

"Remember when you broke your leg at field hockey?" Angela asked with an indulgent grin. "First thing you said when you woke up was – "

"'Ma, I stole some of Pop's beer,'" they said together, and Jane finished, "'and I got drunk on New Year's Eve.' I remember." She rubbed her eyes. "I should just say I'm allergic to the damn stuff."

"Just spit it out, Jane. You know you'll stop taking it before you should, and then you'll never be brave enough to have this conversation again."

Silence hung between them for a long, long moment. Finally, Jane admitted, her voice no more than a hoarse whisper, "Okay, so I love her, Ma, but not the way you…."

"I think you do."

"But I – "

"You're acting like a teenager with her first crush."

"Oh, c'mon," she scoffed.

"You are!"

"I – "

"You going to tell me I didn't hear you call her 'honey'? Or that I didn't catch the two of you holding hands in the hospital lobby?" Jane looked away. "And Jane? How many people do you let even touch your hands, huh?"

Instinctively, she folded her arms across her chest, hiding her hands from further view until she gusted a sigh and lifted them to cover her face. "I like guys," she said, her voice muffled by her hands. "I've always liked guys."

"That doesn't mean – "

"Yes it does. That's how it works, Ma. You like guys or you like girls."

"Or you like both."

That statement hung between them for a few long moments.

Finally, Jane said, "I've never had feelings for a – "

"I'm not so sure about that."

"But – "

"Fine. Until her," Angela interrupted. "Until now. I'm your mother, Jane. Don't bother trying to lie."

"But – "

Angela tugged her wrists, pulling her hands back into her lap without actually touching them. Jane's eyes followed the motion, recognizing the significance. "Don't you think," she said gently, "that some people have that one person? Someone they're just _meant_ to be with?"

"But…."

"Don't you think that just sometimes…your heart just knows what it wants?" She sighed. "Janie, I started reading about this a long time ago."

Her jaw dropped. "What the – _why_?"

"Well, honey, you were kind of…stereotypical. I wanted to be prepared."

"For _wha_ – no. Don't answer that. This is not a conversation you have with your mother."

"Who were you going to have it with? Your brothers?"

"Ma…."

"Look, honey, the books I read said most people aren't a hundred percent _anything_. A lot of people are…ninety-ten or eighty-twenty. I think she's just…the person you've been waiting for. Who she is – that she's a she – she's just your ten percent, that's all. It doesn't matter."

Jane sighed.

"If it helps, think of it this way. Just because I like red grapes doesn't mean I don't run across a really good green one now and then."

Her jaw dropped in sheer adolescent horror. "Oh…my…God, Ma, please, _please_ be talking about actual grapes."

Angela rolled her eyes, then grew serious again. "Sweetheart, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Loving someone – anyone – it's a beautiful thing."

"I'm not ashamed." She saw the look Angela was giving her and sighed. "I'm not. I'm – I'm scared." It was hard to say who was more surprised at that admission; Jane sighed and muttered, "Damn pills."

"Of what?"

Jane stared at her speculatively, then swallowed. "Okay, if I tell you – and I mean _if_ – you have to promise not to freak out."

"I promise."

"Hoyt. The guy who – " Jane waved her hands vaguely. " – he goes after couples, Ma."

"But he's…you caught him."

"And I think he knows," Jane continued as if she hadn't heard her mother's interruption. "See, h-he rapes the wife…and makes the husband watch."

"But – "

"And – mom, you promise you won't freak out?"

Catching the seriousness of the situation, she nodded firmly. "I promise."

She knew it was bad when she saw that Jane had to take a breath before she could speak; she knew it was very bad when she heard the grim note in her daughter's voice.

And she regretted her promise remain calm when she realized her daughter's voice was actually shaking.

"The last time we interviewed him…he threatened to rape Maura. And kill me. Just like…his other victims."

"But, honey…he's behind bars."

"And he's – twice now he's managed to screw with my life _from behind bars_. I'm not going to be completely safe until – I can't risk – "

Angela sighed and rubbed her daughter's knee.

Her voice was quieter now. "I had nightmares every night for two weeks, Ma, after that. Every time I closed my eyes. Of being…."

Angela was startled to see tears in her daughter's eyes. "Are you…does something hurt?"

Jane sniffed and shook her head. Angela was distracted for a moment as she tried to remember the last time she had seen her daughter cry for a reason other than physical pain.

"Of being hogtied and duct taped with a damn teacup on my lap, watching that _monster_ as he – as he raped her."

"Oh, Janie…."

"And it was because of me. Because he's after _me_. I never even got to the part where he kills me. Woke up in a sweat every damn time."

She decided to avoid, for the moment, the admission that her daughter had nightmares about her own death. "Baby, I know – "

Jane didn't seem to notice she was speaking; although her hands were clenched into tight fists, she continued in a quiet, almost reflective voice, "I can still hear her scream."

The only thing that had stopped the dreams, it had turned out, was hearing Maura's faint breathing next to her, on the night Maura had decided enough was enough.

_She was guzzling her third extra large coffee of the morning, practically vibrating from the caffeine and yet still so tired that her eyes hurt and head throbbed, when Maura appeared at her desk with an autopsy report._

_When she glanced up and saw the worry on her friend's face, she knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth._

"_Darkening of the – "_

"_Nasal whatevers," she interrupted. "I know." She scrubbed her face with her hands and groaned. "I know._

_Maura sat down in the chair next to her desk and just waited._

_Finally, Jane glanced around to make sure no one was nearby to listen and said quietly, "I hate him." She toyed with a paper clip for a few moments. "Why can't I just hate him?" She ran a hand through her hair and met Maura's eyes. "Why do I have to be scared of him too?"_

_She followed Maura's eyes as she glanced involuntarily at her hands._

"_It's not the first time a perp's gotten hold of me."_

_Maura pursed her lips. "No, but you have to admit that what he did – scalpels through the hands…that's…well, it's likely to make an impression."_

"_Maybe," Jane grunted._

_Maura fiddled with a pen for a few moments. "When was the last time you slept? For more than an hour or two, I mean."_

_Jane sniffed and looked away. "Night I freaked out at your place."_

_She couldn't bring herself to look up; she knew what she would see – Maura would be staring at her, aghast. "Oh, Jane…that was two weeks ago. You have to sl – you'll get sick!"_

_Jane brushed off her concern with a wave of her hand._

"_There have been so many studies that prove chronic insomnia is extremely detrimental to your health," Maura continued, sounding worried. "Why didn't you say anything?"_

"_Look, it's not a big deal."_

"_Jane…I told you that if you didn't want to be alone, I could sleep on the couch."_

"_You don't have to – "_

_Her tone brooked no disagreement. "I'll stay with you tonight. Just let me call Bass's caretaker." Her eyes softened. "Maybe it'll help."_

"_What'll help is a case of beer. Maybe a bottle of vodka to chase it with. Just to make sure I don't…"_

"…_dream," Maura finished for her with a sigh._

"_Yeah."_

_Maura stood up and straightened her dress. "I'll bring dinner," she said decisively. "And I can bring some wine, but…getting drunk is only going to postpone the inevitable."_

"_I know." Jane debated with herself for a minute. "Okay." She glanced at her phone, which had vibrated. "Frost just tracked down our suspect…gotta go interview her."_

"_Okay." Maura followed her to the door. "Jane?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_It'll be okay."_

_She sighed, wishing she could believe her._

* * *

><p><em>Jane tossed the last takeout container into the trash and sighed before she turned and gathered herself. "You don't have to stay," she said, "if you don't…if you've got stuff to do." Over the expected protest, she added wryly, "Who needs sleep?"<em>

"_You do."_

_She blinked several times and tried to find her voice. It had been some time since Maura's sometimes overly literal nature had caught her by surprise._

"_Yeah…that was…rhetorical," she said with a slight grin. "But…yeah, I guess I do."_

_Maura was unpacking a few toiletries from her overnight bag. "I don't mind, Jane, really."_

"_I just – I feel like such a baby."_

_She frowned as she unfolded and shook her silk pajamas. "You're entitled to be scared…traumatized. He's done horrible things to you."_

_Jane closed her eyes and firmly pressed her lips together to keep herself from blurting out the truth._

_She wanted so badly to explain, to tell Maura that she was really scared of watching Hoyt terrorize her, hurt her, the way he'd hurt the others, but if she did – the last thing she wanted was to pass the nightmares onto her friend._

_In the back of her mind, Hoyt chuckled. He'd stolen her last refuge, the one last safe place she could go for understanding, for comfort._

_Slowly she became aware that Maura had said something. "Sorry…what?"_

_She frowned. "If you don't think you can sleep," she said, "let's just lie down and relax."_

_Jane sighed. "Okay."_

* * *

><p><em>At least this time she had remembered to close the blinds. Still, she groaned as she slapped the alarm in frustration with one hand and plopped a pillow onto her face with the other.<em>

_One night simply could not make up for almost two weeks of interrupted sleep, and a week of nearly none._

_Next to her, she heard Maura stretch and let out a breath. "Jane?" she said._

"_Hm?"_

"_You lied."_

"_About what?"_

"_You do kick."_

_Jane felt her eyes drifting shut again. "Sorry."_

"_It's okay. You have a significant sleep debt to recoup. You should go back to sleep."_

"_But – work – I…."_

_Maura frowned at her in real concern. "Jane…it's Saturday."_

_She was too tired to care. "Oh," she muttered, feeling herself slide back towards sleep despite her token efforts to stay awake._

_When she'd finally awoken, Maura had been calmly reclining against the headboard, reading some coroner's journal, seemingly without a care in the world._

_It was only later, when she realized it was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon and figured out that Maura had kept her vigil for the entire day, that her brain shook itself into alertness._

"_For Christ's sake, Maura, you didn't have to – "_

"_I know," she said calmly, "but every time I got up…you started to dream. I had no other plans today, and you needed sleep." She glanced away, then back. "Anytime, Jane, really."_

_It took several tries before she could come up with a response; when she did, it was only to stammer, "Th-then let me…dinner's on me."_

_Maura smiled. "All right. But an early dinner. You're still showing significant symptoms of sleep deprivation and – "_

_Jane mock-glared. "I thought we decided you weren't going to diagnose people anymore."_

_Over the protest, Maura continued " – and I have to go home to get clothes for tomorrow."_

"_You don't have to be my personal security blanket."_

"_I know," Maura said, "but I want to…to help."_

Jane sighed and met her mother's eyes. "I…I just want to keep her safe." The image of an ice pick impaling her friend's ear suddenly assaulted her, and she shuddered. "She's got – God – enough to worry about without Hoyt too."

As soon as she said it, she realized she'd said too much. To ward off further questions, she said, "I can't – I can't talk about that."

Silence fell, as Jane tried to pull herself together.

Finally, Angela took a deep breath. "Honey, it's too late."

She jerked back, startled. "What?"

"If you're right, and he knows – and, I gotta tell you, baby, that nice Detective Korsak, who used to be your partner, and that Mr. Snow – "

"Frost."

" – Frost, who's your partner now? Honey, they know. They see it. Frankie's asked me about it dozens of times. I don't think your father knows, but he's pretty clueless about this kind of thing."

Jane blinked slowly, trying to force her muddled thoughts to catch up. "D-dozens…?"

"Okay, maybe less than that."

"How many, Ma?"

"Maybe three. And it wasn't asking so much as…asking me if you'd said anything yet. You're not fooling anyone, Jane, either of you."

She sighed and covered her face with her hands. "Damn it."

"Jane, listen to me. If that…monster…knows, he knows. You can't change that. You can't live your life in fear. So why not be happy now and face whatever comes when it comes?"

It felt, strangely, like a victory and a defeat all at once. She felt oddly light. "I'll think about it."

And, because her mother always had to have the last word, Angela said, "Maybe some guy in prison will murder him. It worked for that Dahmer person. The one with the refrigerator? And it happens in my crime novels all the time."

"…eww, Ma."

Another silence, again broken by Angela. "Jane?"

"What?"

"Just because you've never felt anything like it before doesn't mean you're not feeling it now. It's real, what you're feeling. That's what you're really afraid of."

There was too much truth in that, but Jane was spared any further comment by the scrabble of claws across hardwood floors.

"Jo!" Maura commanded sharply, "Stop!"

Jo froze instantly.

Angela, impressed, said, "Jo listens so well to her. She must really like her."

She rolled her eyes and carefully lay back down, suppressing a groan as she pulled at her stitches and then put pressure on the wound on her back. She held her hand down for Jo to lick. "C'mere, Jo. Easy."

Somehow sensing the gravity of the situation, Jo hopped lightly onto the couch and settled gingerly against her human's side.

Maura was watching in evident concern. "Doesn't that hurt?"

Two years ago, when Korsak had insisted that she take Jo Friday home while he recovered from the slash on his neck, she had been less than enthusiastic.

Now, the gentle licks on the inside of her elbow and the slight warmth against her side felt so wonderful that she had to fight back tears.

"A little," she finally admitted, seeing that Maura had seen the tears, "but it's worth it." She glanced at her mother and then back at Maura. She took a breath. "Join the party?"

It didn't take the Facial Action Coding System to see the relief in Maura's eyes. "Just let me get your medicine, okay?"

Angela was practically beaming. "I'll see you girls tomorrow."

"Bye, Ma."

She stopped at the door. "Janie…please think about what I said."

That she asked instead of ordered, and in that quiet, reflective voice, spoke to how seriously she took the whole thing. "I will, Ma."


	13. Chapter 13

**The More Things Change**, Part 13 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: A little discussion of Hoyt in this one. He does things that some may find uncomfortable to read about.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: I'm glad everyone liked Angela and Jane's conversation. It's not one I've ever had, so it was new territory for me. I veer just a little bit into silliness in this one, but no more so than the show, I would venture to say. Once I had Jane's _no, __**really**__?_ face in my head, I had to do something with it.

* * *

><p>Her mind was still running at half speed at best.<p>

It was only after she had lain down and watched Maura come back into the living room with her pain pills, antibiotics, and other assorted medication that she realized that lying back down in the first place might not have been her best idea.

Her only real thought – besides the dozens of Maura-related ones that had been helpfully stirred up by her mother – was that it was a good thing she could swallow pills dry, because the idea of sitting up again was almost too much to contemplate.

She accepted the pills, a little reluctantly, and gulped them down.

The pain was doing its best to make her cranky, but she was occupied almost entirely with thinking about the conversation she had just had with her mother. It was as though floodgates had been opened, and now she just couldn't stop.

How the hell hadn't she seen it before?

She was a detective, for God's sake, and she couldn't figure out what was going on in her own damn head – although apparently without her own permission?

Maura, worried at her silence, gently nudged Jane's upper body back onto her lap – which prompted a whispered "thank you; that was killing me" – and resumed her attempt at untangling her friend's hair.

Finally, after the medication began to kick back in, Jane cracked open her eyes and looked up at her friend. "So," she said, in something approaching a businesslike voice, "what the _hell_ were you doing walking out into the middle of a hostage situation?"

Maura flinched. "I – "

"A hostage situation with a desperate dirty _cop_, at that."

"I wanted…the SWAT officers…they had…." Jane's eyes widened in amazement; part of her had suspected that might have been the case, but hearing it outright was another thing entirely. Quietly, Maura admitted, "I wasn't thinking. I-I wanted you to know Frankie was on the way to the hospital. You were so scared for him."

Her first instinct was to howl in frustration, but she restrained herself to a sigh. "Maura…."

Neither of them heard the door; they jerked, startled, when they heard Angela's voice. "Girls, I forgot to – Jane Elizabeth Rizzoli!" It was disconcerting to realize that, even as an adult, her full name spoken in that tone of voice could make her squirm. "Did you make Maura cry? You apologize to her!"

"I…. Ma, what are you doing here?"

"Apologize," Angela insisted.

"But – "

Angela narrowed her eyes and frowned at her daughter severely; it hadn't been _that_ long since she'd been the mother of three teenagers. "_Apologize_."

She sighed, but when she saw the genuine hurt in Maura's eyes, along with a good helping of lingering trauma, she couldn't really resent the order too much. "Sorry."

Maura shrugged.

"Can we have a moment, please, Maura?" Angela asked in a strained, sharp voice.

"Of course. I'll go check on Jo."

"We'll only be a minute."

"What is it, Ma?"

Angela knelt next to Jane, who was still reclining on the couch, and pinned her with a fiercely maternal glare. "You listen to me, young lady."

Jane blinked, surprised. "About what?"

"You might be the one who was shot – but you are _not_ the only one who was hurt. You remember that, all right?"

"But – "

Angela frowned. "Close your eyes." She waited until Jane reluctantly complied. "Imagine it was her. Imagine that guy grabbed her, dragged her away – "

"Wait," Jane interrupted, "how do you…?"

"You're the one who told me she can't lie. I asked her. Now _close your eyes_. Imagine he's got a gun to her head, that he's threatening to kill her. Imagine you ran after her, that you finally caught up to her, only to see her fall to the ground, bleeding…."

"Okay, Ma," she choked out, forcing away the images of a different dirty cop doing almost exactly that. "I get it."

"Do you? This'll give you scars on the outside, Jane, but you slept through the worst of it. She'll have them on the inside. You better remember that."

Jane sighed. "All right." She glanced towards the kitchen and saw Maura walking back, her head bowed and a frown creasing her forehead. "Hey, Maura," she said, "help me sit up?"

That drew a reluctant but genuine grin. As she grasped her hands, Jane met her eyes and briefly rubbed Maura's hands with her thumb. "I was a jerk. I'm sorry."

Maura sniffed and sat next to her on the couch.

Jane caught herself reaching out to put a comforting hand on Maura's thigh, the stopped in mid-motion, frowned at Angela, and awkwardly put it back in her own lap.

Angela held up a small box. "I forgot to leave this."

"What…is…that?"

"It's a baby monitor."

"There…are no babies here."

"It's for you. So if you need help at night, you can call Maura." Angela's gaze sharpened when she noticed Maura flush. She grinned. "Unless…" she said in a teasing drawl, "…Maura was going to sleep on the floor."

Jane just stared.

"That's awfully rude, honey, letting her do that. It's her home, after all, and she volunteered to take care of you."

"I don't – "

"And to make her sleep on the floor. How inconsiderate."

"But – "

"You're not really going to do that, Maura, honey, are you?"

Maura's mouth worked silently for a few moments; she met Jane's eyes. Her face was a study in dozens of emotions, but it was easy enough to see that she was embarrassed, uncomfortable, and very close to being pushed over the edge into anger. There was really only one thing she could do.

She took a preparatory deep breath. "Of-of course that's what I was going to…."

As Jane watched, she gasped, flushed a deep red, and slumped to the side, out cold.

"I'll be damned," she muttered.

Angela frowned. "What's wrong with her?"

"I'll be damned," she said again, half in amusement and half in wonder. "She really – vaso…somethin'."

"Jane?"

She ran through every possible thing she could think of. If she admitted _why_ Maura had fainted, she'd also have to explain a few more things she was in no way ready to explain at all – not the least of which was admitting to her mother the number of times she and Maura had already slept over at each others' places. Her mother knew damn good and well she only had one bed.

Once again, though, the medication took its toll, and all could only come up with was: "She's, uh, hypoglycemic. Said she skipped lunch to come pick me up."

Angela frowned. "She never mentioned that."

"Well…."

"We were in that hospital together a long time. I'd think she would have…."

"She…uh…." Jane's shoulders slumped. "Ma, let it go, okay?"

"Can I…is there something I…?"

"Um…just…bring some juice from the fridge. She'll be okay."

Angela looked confused. "But Jane…she fainted."

"Yep."

"But…you…."

"Hypoglycemic. Happens all the time." Angela just stared at her. Pointedly, Jane said, "See you later, Ma."

It was, Jane decided, interesting to note that she'd actually stunned her mother into silence.

"Goodbye, Ma."

She sat there for a few moments, smiling slightly when she saw the tension creep back into Maura's muscles while her eyes stayed resolutely closed.

"It's okay," she said. "She's gone…it's safe. You can open your eyes."

It took a moment, even so. "Sorry. I…."

Their prior conversation forgotten for the moment, Jane tilted her head and smiled slightly. "You really faint when you lie?"

"Of course," Maura said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't lie about…that."

She viciously fought down the laugh. "Of-of course not." She couldn't stop herself from chuckling slightly and winced, but continued, "'Cause you'd faint if you…" She chuckled again. "…if you lied about fainting when you…."

She trailed off, still fighting back laughter at the logic loop she'd caught herself in.

"Sorry," Maura said, seeing the flinch.

"S'okay."

Maura looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

"What?"

"About…that day…."

Jane sighed. "Maura, I've done some stupid things over the years, and I got the scars to prove it. But that…that was pretty damn stupid."

"I know."

"Dozens of hair-triggered SWAT officers. Patrolmen. Detectives. Half the friggin' police force. How the hell would they know you weren't another bad guy?"

"I know."

She began to run a hand through her hair in frustration, but grunted and dropped her hand back to her lap. That was one nervous tic she was going to have to do without for a while. "You're lucky they didn't shoot you."

Her voice was becoming more subdued. "I know."

"And if Marino had seen you…the bastard would probably have killed you."

Her voice began to shake. "I know."

"Like I said…damn stupid."

"I know."

Jane sighed. "But I guess I don't have much room to talk."

This time, she threw caution to the winds and pulled Maura into a hug when she began to cry.

"Thank you," she whispered into Maura's hair. "I mean, it was ridiculously dumb…but thank you."

Maura nodded wordlessly, though her crying tapered off into quite sniffles. They stayed like that long after she'd stopped and Jane, for the first time since she'd woken up in the hospital, felt herself relax.

She wasn't sure whether she should thank her mother or curse her name; she was insufferable when she was right.


	14. Chapter 14

**The More Things Change**, Part 14 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: A little discussion of Hoyt in this one. He does things that some may find uncomfortable to read about.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: As a response to a couple of questions – yes, this whole story is written. I am posting it in parts because I've been giving each part a last once-over and editing before sharing it with the world. I apologize if anyone has assumed any malicious intent from the fact that I didn't post this whole story at once – that was very much not my intention. I simply wanted to make sure I got the whole story posted before season two started and rendered the whole thing AU at best, and I knew that if I didn't start posting, I would never have the impetus to do that last editing run in time. Again, I apologize if anyone is upset by how I've been sharing this story; I simply did what works best for me as a writer. This is the longest story I have ever written and is a new experience for me. Thanks.

* * *

><p>Jane drifted in and out for most of the afternoon. She was vaguely conscious of Maura tidying up, putting her things away in the guest bedroom, and even – she was fairly sure she hadn't been dreaming – giving Jo Friday a tour.<p>

She became fuzzily aware that Maura must have been cooking something for dinner by the smells emanating from the kitchen, but she was content to let time float past her until she was startled awake by the ringing of the phone.

She dimly heard Maura's voice as she spoke quietly in the kitchen, but couldn't really focus on the words and drifted out again until she felt the couch move as her friend sat down. "Jane?" she said quietly.

"'m 'wake."

"Oh, yes, you sound quite alert."

That got a wide-eyed stare and a wry grin. "You're really getting the hang of this sarcasm thing."

"I had a good teacher. You're quite obvious when you're employing sarcasm."

"That's good? That I'm…obvious?"

"For someone who isn't very good at reading other people? Yes."

"Glad I could help."

Maura smiled and patted her shin. "Dinner'll be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"You didn't have to cook."

"I enjoyed it," she said. "I like to cook; I just don't often have enough time to."

She spent some time absorbing that and must have drifted off again, because the next thing she was aware of was Maura's gentle hand on her shoulder. "Jane?"

"Mm?"

"Dinner's ready. Can I help you sit up?"

Jane forced her eyes open. "Let's sit at the table."

Her eyes widened. "Are you sure you can?"

"Table's closer than the bedroom. Think of it as practice for tonight."

Maura acknowledged her logic with a tilt of the head. "It's…it'll hurt, to stand up. You know that, right?"

"Gotta do it sometime."

Maura sighed. "Okay. Let me help you sit up first, then I'll help you stand, okay?"

"Okay."

"You have to let me do it, Jane. You've got far too much muscle damage to – "

"I get it. It would hurt."

"If you're even able to yet, it could pull your stitches. The internal ones. You could – it would be very dangerous." She frowned. "And it would hurt. A lot."

She grasped Jane's hands and pulled her upright, waiting for a few moments for her friend to regain her composure.

"Okay, I'm going to do this like the nurses showed me. This is how they move immobile patients. You don't have to do anything. Okay?"

"Okay."

Maura reached around Jane's torso, being very careful to avoid the still-healing wound on her back, and planted her feet firmly on the ground. "I'm going to lift on three. Don't – "

"I get it, Maura. Go ahead."

"Okay," Maura said. "One – two – three."

She carefully pulled Jane to her feet, wincing at Jane's quiet groan and muttered "crap."

"You okay?"

Jane rested her hands on Maura's shoulders as she swayed on her feet. "Peachy."

"Sarcasm."

"Naw, really?"

Maura shook her head with a grin. "Ready?" She wrapped a steadying arm around Jane's waist, and slowly led the way to the table.

"So what's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti and meatballs."

Jane grinned. "Ma has the best recipe for – "

"I know. She gave it to me."

Her jaw dropped. "My Ma _gave_ you the recipe for her meatballs?"

"Yes."

"_My_ mother, who still hasn't given _me_ the recipe for her meatballs, gave you the recipe for her meatballs?"

"Yes?"

"So…just to clarify here – I get Ma's food, without Ma."

"…yes?"

Jane grinned. "Sweet!"

Maura shook her head and went to retrieve the food.

"Did I hear the phone earlier?" Jane called after her.

"Yes."

"Korsak or Frost?"

Maura frowned as she set the food down. "How did you…?"

"I'm a detective. I have excellent analytical skills."

"Actually, you have excellent deductive skills, even if your line of reasoning is sometimes more…impulsive and emotional than would be ideal."

Jane tilted her head and frowned. "Did you just…compliment me…or insult me?"

"It was both."

"A compliment and an insult?"

"I was on the phone with Frost when Korsak called."

Jane rubbed her eyes. "You're avoiding the question."

"Maybe."

She scowled. "Maura, I'm hurt and drugged up and I've got about a third of my brain actually working. Come on, give."

Maura didn't answer, and she found she had neither the energy nor the desire to press the issue and rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. Forget it. What did…they…want?"

"To make sure you got settled all right."

Jane sighed. "I suppose I'll have to…."

Maura contemplated that in silence for a long moment. "This is delicious. My compliments to your mother."

"Thanks."

Finally, Maura touched the back of Jane's hand. "If you're not ready, it's okay. I know you like to appear…" She paused to search for the right words. "…a certain way in front of the men you work with."

Jane winced. "You put it like that, it doesn't sound very flattering."

"Well…I think it was expected of you. Female detectives are still so rare – let alone homicide detectives."

They ate in silence, and it was only when Maura began to gather up the plates that Jane finally said quietly, "It's the damndest thing."

"What?"

She waited until Maura came back and helped her stand and walk to the bathroom. "Bedroom," she gasped as Maura helped her stand again. "I get down, I won't get up again tonight."

"Okay."

Finally, she glanced up from where she sat on the edge of the Maura's guest bed. "It's the damndest thing," she said again. "It's usually not just…it's not just the guys at work."

Maura didn't say anything as she helped Jane slip out of the oversized Patriots jersey Frankie had loaned her and into the soft cotton night shirt her mother had brought.

"It's everybody," Jane said as Maura helped her crawl under the covers. "I fell…hard…off the playground in second grade. Needed eight stitches." She glanced at Maura, then away. "Didn't make a sound. Didn't want anyone to see me…you know…hurt."

Maura froze in the act of tucking Jane into bed. "But I – you – "

"I know. Damndest thing."

She stood, unusually hesitant, for a moment. "Are you…comfortable?"

"As I can be." She watched Maura walk to the doorway, hesitate, walk back, and hesitate again, a faint frown on her face.

"_I didn't ask for much. I don't think I really knew how."_

Jane sighed, watching her.

Maura look back, fidgeting, wringing her hands back together, then bowed her head and turned for the door.

Jane felt a surge of warmth along with the sympathy she was already feeling. It was strange to think that that if Maura were to look at her right now, she'd be wide open to her – but it was true. It was though her mother had opened some kind of door, and here she was, following right along with a smile.

She debated internally for just a few moments. _It's late, I'm tired, everything hurts like hell, and I can barely think. Damn it, I'm not ready for this_.

But she just couldn't leave Maura looking so sad and lonely, so she closed her eyes to gather herself and took a deep breath. "Maura?"

"Hm?"

"Stay here?"

Maura smiled widely, clearly relieved. "Sure. Just have to change and lock up. And I should bring Jo in from the yard."

Jane smiled back. "Good."

When Maura came back a few minutes later, Jo Friday was hot on her heels. Jane grinned when she knelt down to look the dog in the eye. "You may _not_," she said, "sleep on the bed at my house."

Jo whined, but then noticed the doggy bed in the corner of the room and curled up happily.

Maura flicked the lights off and slipped under the covers. "Are you all right?"

Jane smiled. "Yeah, I'm okay."

They lay there in silence for a few moments. Jane's thoughts were drifting again, to the point that even she wasn't really sure what they were, but she did know they were making her smile.

And it was those thoughts that led her, a few minutes later, to reach out and lightly grasp Maura's hand in her own. She heard Maura's sharp intake of breath and smiled again.

Despite it all, at that moment, life was good.


	15. Chapter 15

**The More Things Change**, Part 15 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Thank you to everybody for the kind comments; I think I freaked out a bit when I saw that someone interprete my posting schedule as a "power play." So, thanks for the reassurance. As for this chapter: Oh, boy. Another first for me. This is another long part, by the way.

(Incidentally, my replies to reviews are coming as PMs because FFN is _still_ not letting me reply to reviews directly.)

**Edited to add the scene break. Whoops.**

* * *

><p>By Sunday, Jane was able to walk around a little on her own, though she still needed a good deal of help anytime she had to stand or sit. It should have been pissing her off, she supposed, but she was either too tired to care or just plain beyond worrying about it.<p>

Or, she was becoming self-aware enough to realize, it could have been that it was Maura's help she was getting.

In truth, some part of herself she'd either never known existed or had completely ignored for most of her years, was soaking the attention up like a sponge. It felt surprisingly good to let someone take care of her.

She was sitting on the couch, pretending to watch whatever History Channel special Maura was currently engrossed in, and trying to distract herself from thinking about her first outpatient physical therapy session the following day.

She'd been happy enough to get a short reprieve from the therapy she'd begun at the hospital, but she knew it couldn't last forever.

She was sitting there, trying to psych herself up for the appointment when Maura said suddenly, "I can wash your hair in the sink if you want."

Jane frowned. "Well, sure, that sounds – but…wait, what…?"

"Your hair was barely wet when you got out of the shower earlier."

She squirmed uncomfortably. "I couldn't – get – "

"It hurt you to lift your arms."

"Uh huh." Maura frowned at her and she shrugged. "We talked about me and the tough girl act, right?"

"We also talked about how it's not necessary all the time. Certainly not now."

She sighed. "Easier said than done."

"Jane…."

She rubbed her face. "Okay." She caught the slightly hurt look and softened her tone. "Thank you."

"Well, come on then," Maura said, tugging her to her feet.

She suppressed a groan. "Hey, wait, what about _Ancient…_uh…_Secrets of…Egypt_?"

Maura frowned, glancing at the TV and then back at Jane. "I was watching _Miracle Planet_."

"Right, right. _Miracle Planet_. I knew that."

"I own the DVD set. I was just watching out of convenience."

Jane sighed and rolled her eyes.

Despite her less-than-ideal mood, it made her smile to note that Maura let go as soon as she was sure she was steady on her feet.

She'd been very good about that, actually – though Jane could see hesitance and worry in her eyes, she also saw Maura's steely determination to allow her to be as independent as possible.

She was always close by, in case Jane's sometimes-precarious balance, or her significantly weakened right side, caused her problems, but she never called attention to it.

Considering that her mother would probably still have her chained to her bed, she felt damned lucky to have her.

She followed Maura to the kitchen, where she found a lab stool sitting in front of the sink. "Where the hell…?"

"I asked my assistant to bring it from the office. He came by when you were asleep."

"Damn. I hate that."

"What?"

"Sleepin' all day."

"It's your body repairing itself," Maura said, steadying Jane as she sat on the stool and cautiously leaned back. "Have some patience."

Every thought in her head completely stopped.

_Oh. My. God_.

For just a second, Jane was convinced that if she looked down, she would see flames – or blood – covering her stomach. Her back was howling too, but the pain in her abdomen was so much more intense, she didn't even notice it until she consciously wondered about it.

She glanced at Maura's interested, eager look, and gulped, forcing herself to ignore the pain.

"Maura…you've known me for awhile now. Am I a patient person?" How she managed to speak without her voice shaking was a complete mystery.

She smiled. "Not usually. But I'll do my best to distract you."

Jane's eyes widened as wondered whether the double entendre was intentional. Whether it was or not, her brain latched onto it. She shrugged internally; at least it was something to think about other than the pain.

She was tired of thinking about pain.

"It hurts to lean back."

She winced; it was the damn Percoset again, loosening her lips. Knowing what she'd see, she glanced at Maura and immediately felt like a complete jerk; her eyes were glimmering with tears.

That had been happening less, as Jane's recovery progressed and Maura's immediate fears for her survival faded, but the sight always broke her heart. She was acutely aware of the fact that it was her fault, and the idea would have been enough to drive her to drink – if she was allowed to do so.

She exhaled. "God, Maura," she muttered, flushing, "I'm sorry. I'll be okay."

She watched as Maura fought for control of her emotions and failed. "C'mere," she said, tugging her closer. "I'm sorry. Help me up?"

"What…why?"

"If this is gonna work, you gotta lower this stool, for one," Jane said. "And, two," she added, wrapping her arms around her friend in a gentle hug, "this works a hell of a lot better if I'm standing."

Maura leaned into the embrace just for a moment before pulling back and offering a watery smile. "Okay."

She knelt and adjusted the stool, trying it out on herself and finding it just a little too short – which, she assumed, would make it just the right height for Jane.

"Better," Jane grunted a few moments later; though it wasn't much better at all, she wasn't about to admit that. She leaned back, trying to relax, though it was proving damn near impossible. "Maura?"

"Hmm?" she asked distractedly as she adjusted the temperature of the water.

"Thanks for…taking care of me." She paused as Maura began to run water through her admittedly less than pristine hair. "For…worrying about me."

Maura paused and glanced at her questioningly.

She shrugged self-consciously. "Used to tell myself I didn't want people to worry about me."

Maura squirted a good amount of shampoo onto Jane's hair and began to massage it in. "This is going to take – "

"A repeat?"

"What?"

"You know…lather, rinse, repeat?"

Maura smiled. "Yes."

_Great_, Jane groused to herself, but she'd be damned if she was going to admit to her continuing discomfort aloud. Finally, to distract both of them, she added, "Don't mind it with you."

"You don't mind what?"

"You taking care of me. Worrying about me." To herself, under her breath, she added, "That shoulda told me something."

Maura rinsed her hair and added a second dose of shampoo before she said quietly, "I'd rather not have to worry about you, you know."

"I know. But thank you for doing it anyway."

Maura smiled. "You're welcome." She glanced at Jane. "Will you be okay while I run upstairs to get some conditioner? Your hair's very tangled."

Staying in that position for much longer was about the last thing in the world that she wanted to do, but she smiled weakly and said, "Sure."

Only when Maura was safely upstairs did she allow herself to groan quietly and wipe her watering eyes.

* * *

><p>Despite her best efforts at brushing it off, it was clear that Maura realized how painful the whole process had actually been; she sat pensively next to Jane on the couch, fidgeting with the hemline of the BPD softball t-shirt she was wearing, a drawn look on her face.<p>

Jane watched helplessly; what could she do, really?

Tell Maura that she'd figured out – or at least had a decent suspicion of – what the deep circles under her eyes, her disheveled appearance, and lack of makeup or jewelry meant?

Remind her that she didn't fidget unless under extreme distress?

Get down on her knees and apologize, yet again, for something so fundamental to her character that she hadn't even consciously made the decision?

Just get down on her knees, period, and beg for forgiveness?

She rolled her eyes at herself; if she got down on her knees, she'd be stuck, and Maura would just yell at her for risking tearing open her stitches.

Finally, Maura touched Jane on the arm. "Can I braid your hair for you?"

Her thoughts completely derailed, Jane glanced at her, confused. "Uh…sure?"

"It'll stop it from getting so tangled tonight," Maura explained as she stood to go get a brush, a comb, and some fasteners. "It'll be easier for you to brush tomorrow before your appointment." She glanced back with a strained smile. "I know you'll want to do that yourself."

Jane offered what she hoped was a reassuring grin. "Sure…thanks."

When Maura came back, she climbed onto the back of the couch and sat there for a moment before she said nervously, "I should warn you – I've never braided anyone else's hair before."

"Not even in your fancy boarding school dorms?"

The familiar joke fell flat as Maura's hands faltered. "Uh…" she stammered, "…we had private rooms."

"Of course you did." Jane suddenly felt very inadequate. "Of course you did." She sighed and made an effort to put it out of her mind. "But didn't you ever have, you know, friends over?"

"For what?"

If it weren't Maura, Jane would have been sure she was being teased. But it was Maura, and the only thing she was sure of was that her childhood had been very, very different.

And more than a little sad.

"I dunno," she finally said. "Sleepovers?"

She sighed. "Not really, no."

Jane tilted her head back just enough to meet Maura's eyes. Her heart ached for her, for the loneliness she must have felt – echoes of which she was convinced she could see hiding in her eyes even still.

Finally, gently, she probed: "You didn't have a lot of friends, did you?"

"Not real ones, no," Maura said, shaking her head.

"You got one now. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"You got more than one, actually. Frankie. Korsak and Frost."

"I know that too."

Maura gathered a handful of hair and began brushing it, bottom to top; even the wide-bristled brush caught on a couple of snarls.

Jane let the silence lengthen, thinking about Maura and her childhood, wondering why parents who had obviously wanted a child so badly that they…. "Y'know, I've been wondering something. I always thought…well, it's not easy to adopt a kid, is it?"

She frowned. "No. It can be very expensive, and there's a great deal of paperwork. There are parent studies and even visits by social services."

"Right. So why go through all that trouble just to ignore you?"

"They didn't – "

"You told me yourself that they loved the idea of shipping you off to boarding school."

Maura sighed as she slipped off the back of the couch and settled next to Jane's left side. She gathered another handful of hair before she said, "They loved me. They do."

Jane sighed and put a hand on Maura's knee. "I don't doubt that." She shrugged. "I just…can't imagine it, I guess. I spend most of my time wishing Ma would leave me alone."

"Do you really?" She paused to work through a particularly difficult tangle. "Your mother loves you so much."

She deflated a bit. "I know. I just wish she were…quieter…about it sometimes."

"But at least you're sure. You've never had to…wonder."

Jane sucked in a breath, horrified.

Maura, perhaps belatedly realizing what she had just revealed, swallowed hard and then went to sit down by Jane's other side, avoiding her eyes the whole way. She started brushing the tangles out of another handful of hair, seemingly unaware of the look of mixed fury and grief on Jane's face. Finally, she said, "I knew some of the girls because of my parents, and we were friendly, but…." There was a very, very long silence.

"Maura?"

"…but you're…."

She really _hadn't_ had a best friend before.

"So to get back where we started…no slumber parties?"

"Actually, I think my first one was…oh, about two and a half years ago."

"You don't mean when Hoyt – when I – " It shouldn't have surprised her – and, in truth, it didn't, really – but it made her heart lurch nonetheless. "You're kidding."

"No."

It was like trying to imagine growing up as the future queen of England. Finally, she admitted defeat. "So what did you do?"

"Homework."

Despite herself, she grinned. "Sure, sure. I mean besides homework."

"I read."

Jane's jaw sagged. "All the time? Weren't you, you know, in any clubs?"

Maura sighed as she climbed back up onto the back of the couch. She began to create a part in Jane's hair, separating it into halves. "I wasn't…I didn't feel welcome in the clubs. So I read. And I had a chemistry set."

"Well, I read too, but I managed to have a social life," Jane countered, before she realized how that could be interpreted. "Not that…I mean, you…I'm sure you…."

"I didn't." She shrugged. "I think at the time I preferred it that way. I found…people…."

"Frost told me you were scared of 'em."

"Maura…."

"No, I know. It's – it's irrational."

Jane sighed. "No, it's not."

"Yes it is."

She began to grin. "Isn't that kind of what fear is? Irrational?"

"Not necessarily," Maura protested. "It's completely rational to be frightened of a charging lion, for instance."

Jane's mouth opened and then shut several times as she sifted through her possible responses.

"What?" Maura asked, finally chuckling a little.

"Just…tryin' to figure out when the last time a lion charged at me was."

"Just because it's uncommon doesn't negate the fact that it's rational." She paused and lightly touched the back of Jane's hand. "You should know…some things, it's smart to be afraid of."

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess." She paused. "Maura?"

"Hmm?"

"I think – I think people probably made fun of you because you're so smart. Doesn't make it right, but it – it's better than being made fun of 'cause you're ugly."

Maura frowned. "You can't honestly tell me you were ever _ugly_."

Echoes of childhood taunts rang in her ears.

"Jane. No one who is so attractive now could have been ugly as a child."

She blushed and shrugged. "Rolly polly Rizzoli, remember?"

She shook her head. "Even so. Your facial structure, your bone structure…that would still be evident, even if you were overweight. I can't believe you would ever have been ugly."

"Get Ma to show you pictures. Buck teeth and everything."

Maura sighed, surprised by this sudden surge of insecurity. "Jane…."

She sniffed and waved her off, and Maura had no choice but to go back to her hair.

Finally, satisfied with the progress she'd made with the sparsely bristled brush, she switched to a fine-toothed comb, pulling it through the left half of her hair. "Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Speaking of reading…why do you have two copies of _2001_?" Jane frowned and glanced at her in confusion. "The night…." She trailed off and groaned quietly. "Oh, that is so illogical."

"What?"

"Why would I have an aversion to saying 'the night after you were shot'?"

She ducked her head and closed her eyes. "Because it…bugs you?"

Sharply, she said, "It does more than 'bug' me."

"I know." Jane sighed. "I'm sorry."

After a long silence, Maura said, "It was…that first night. Your mother brought me to your house to shower and change."

"Frankie didn't like reading. Was always getting in trouble at school for not doing his book reports. One day, he saw the movie on TV…really liked it. Hell if I know why…monkeys and spaceships and a lotta runnin' in circles."

"It's considered a classic of science fiction," Maura said. "Well, the novel is. Opinion seems to be divided as to the film."

She shrugged. "The book did make the movie make more sense…but you shouldn't have to read a book to make the damn movie make sense, you know?" She flinched as Maura hit a tangle, then relaxed. "Anyway, I bought the book and read it to him at night."

Maura smiled, charmed. "Aww."

Jane shot her a cross look that almost hid the pleased grin that was fighting to come out. "Finally had to buy another copy, but he wouldn't let me get rid of the first one." She shrugged. "We kept it up pretty much until he hit high school. Read him _Lord of the Rings_ too. Took _months_ to read that one. _The Westing Game_…he really liked that. _The Princess Bride_…."

"I love that movie." Maura gathered up half of Jane's hair and separated it into thirds. "You and Frankie…you have something special."

"Maura…."

"No, it's okay."

"I – I'm not…I wasn't trying to…I mean, I know you wish you'd had a…." She stumbled to a halt and sighed.

Maura finished one braid and moved back to Jane's other side to start the other. "It's all right. I've had other friends with siblings. I know it probably wouldn't have been like that even if Colin and I had grown up together."

All she could do, really, was offer what she hoped was an understanding grin and try to steer the conversation in a different way. "Ma used to do this for me, you know?"

She knew she'd made a mistake when she felt Maura's hands still. "Oh?"

_Boy, I'm on a roll here_.

"Let me guess. Your mother never did your hair?"

"No, not…no."

Jane sighed. _Crap_. "Your childhood makes me sad."

"Red Sox losing sad, or chocolate from Jorge sad?"

She smiled gently. "Maura deserves to have been happy…sad."

"Jane – "

"No, it's okay. I just – sometimes I think about what you said, about not askin' for stuff, 'cause you never knew how." She shrugged. "I never had to, you know?"

"I know."

The quiet melancholy was enough to rip her damn heart from her chest.

"No, I mean…I never had to, so it never occurred to me that you might…." She sighed, then steeled herself. Somehow, she knew this was the moment. "Is – is there anything you ever…should have asked…anyone else?"

Maura dropped her hands to her lap, the half-finished braid unraveling in front of her.

Jane gathered all her courage and croaked, "Me?"

She saw the flush, even though Maura tried to look away. That she didn't say anything…well, if she couldn't lie, she could just stay silent.

That knowledge gave Jane the courage to press forward.

"Don't lie," she said. "You fallin' on top of me would hurt."

Maura continued to say nothing. "It's okay," Jane said, now fairly certain her mother had been right after all. "Maybe there's stuff _I_ shoulda asked."

"Yes."

Jane nodded. "C'mere. Turning around's a bitch."

Maura sat on the coffee table facing her friend, though she kept her eyes trained on the floor.

"Can you ask now?" Jane asked, very quietly.

Maura's mouth opened and shut several times before she came up with a response. "What's…my face saying?"

"Ma told you about…?"

"Mm."

She shrugged. "It takes work to keep up with you." She glanced up, feeling as close to shy as Jane Rizzoli would ever admit to being. "But it's worth it."

"You don't have to – you could just ask me."

After a long silence, Jane finally admitted, "Sometimes I wonder why you hang out with a dummy like me. Don't like to advertise it, you know?"

Maura frowned and snapped, "You're not – "

"Compared to you? Hell yes I am."

"I don't believe that. Going to college is _not_ the same thing as being intelligent. It's not."

"Oh, come on. Maura, you're ten times as smart as me and you know it."

"But even if that were true – and it's not – that doesn't matter. Jane, really, it doesn't. That's like saying I couldn't be friends with Stephen Hawking if I were ever to meet him."

Jane blinked.

"I read a lot. I'm interested in the world, and a lot of what I know is just because I'm curious. I didn't learn about the Facial Action Coding System in medical school."

"I guess."

Maura leaned forward to catch her eye. "Know why I did?"

Jane shook her head.

"I was jealous."

"Of…_what_?"

"Of you," she admitted quietly. "Of how easily you read people. How easily you…understand…people. I don't, usually. You know that."

"But – "

"I thought maybe it would help me see what you see."

"Maura…" Jane sighed, her shoulders slumping. "That's a hell of a thing to be jealous of. Besides, I can't always read people. What about Emily Stern?"

"That's…she was deliberately trying to mislead you."

"So do a lot of other suspects."

"She'd been specifically taught – groomed – to mislead you."

Jane shrugged, conceding the point. "Or…well, my mom had to clue me into something that was right in front of my face."

Maura's breath caught.

"About my best friend, no less." She searched Maura's expression carefully. "That thing you should have asked for?"

Maura froze, her eyes locked with Jane's.

Jane spent one frantic moment praying as hard as she could that her mother was right, then leaned forward, still staring into Maura's eyes.

"Is it this?" she asked as she closed the distance between them and brushed Maura's lips with her own in a brief, gentle kiss.


	16. Chapter 16

**The More Things Change**, Part 16 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Okay, so I made Maura share one of my linguistic pet peeves. She seems the type, you know? ;-)

* * *

><p>She kept the kiss light, just barely there, so that Maura could brush it off as a friendly gesture if she wanted; no matter that the thought brought a completely unexpected lump to her own throat.<p>

She couldn't decide whether she should feel elated or relieved when she felt Maura's undeniable response. Mostly she just felt thankful.

"Maura…."

Her own voice startled her – it was half-whisper, half…something else – and laced with a vulnerability she'd never expected to hear.

At the same moment, Maura breathed out a quiet, "Jane…."

She glanced up and frowned. Her face was brick red, there were tears in her eyes, and it looked like it was taking every ounce of her considerable willpower to keep from running away.

"I know," Maura said. "Oh, Jane, I'm sorry. I just didn't want – you're too good a friend to – "

Jane reached out and took her hands, trying to regain eye contact. "Maura," she said gently, without a hint of censure in her tone. "Hey. Maura. Don't apologize. It's okay." Maura just sniffled. "Come on, don't look like that." Jane reached out and touched her cheek. "I never do anything I don't wanna do, do I?"

Maura blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears away, but didn't say anything.

"I – I'm sorry," Jane stammered. "I know it's cliché, but – "

"Clichéd."

"What?"

"Cliché is a noun. Clichéd is the adjective. You meant 'a cliché,' or 'clichéd.' 'I know it's cliché' isn't grammatically correct."

After a beat, Jane shook her head. "Okay, I'm sorry I had to live a cliché and get shot to figure it out. And that you felt like you couldn't tell me. But…God, don't apologize."

Maura just looked down, staring at the carpet.

"How long, Maura?" Jane asked gently. It didn't occur to her until after she asked that she'd have to face the music at some point and answer the same thing.

What the hell could she say?

She hadn't consciously thought about it at all until speaking with her mother, but she'd spent whole chunks of the last few days examining the past and was now completely certain that large parts of her brain had been pondering the whole thing all along, without so much as a by your leave.

"A long time," she whispered. "A…long time, Jane. Though I didn't consciously realize it myself until…."

"Until…?"

Maura pressed her lips together, still staring at the floor. "Until I realized that Lola was Emily Stern and that you might be…that she might have already…." She gulped, then whispered, "That she might have already killed you."

Jane nodded. "I think…I mean, I didn't understand it then, but it was when Doyle's guys grabbed you. I realized I might have to identify your body, and I…the thought _sucked_. I get why now."

_She'd been a mess the whole time, from the moment Frost had admitted that some nebulous someone knew that Maura was Colin Doyle's son._

_She'd taken off at a run for the morgue, the guys huffing along behind her as she put both her height and her marathon training to good use, only to find the place empty._

_She remembered looking at Korsak, aware that her expression was naked and pleading, but not caring at the slightest._

_Now, she was beginning to suspect that she'd realized, just at that moment, the possibilities she might have lost – but then all she'd been was desperately, desperately worried._

_He'd patted her arm, glanced at Frost, then back out into the night. "We'll find her, kid," he'd said. "We'll find her."_

_Looking back on it, she realized now that it was his 'talking to the family' voice. At the time, though, she'd just nodded and followed them back to the squad room._

_She'd shoved her hands into her pockets so that no one could see how badly they were shaking and, for hours, the only thing she saw, every time she closed her eyes, was an image of finding Maura's body dumped in some random park, an ice pick sticking out of her brain._

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, forcing her thoughts back to the present, watching with a faint smile as Maura looked up, tentative hope blooming in her eyes. "Y-you mean you…?"

"I never thought – I mean, I've always been attracted to guys. I've never…but you…." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm gonna stop babbling now."

Maura smiled slightly. "I never have either, but…well, human sexuality is a very fluid thing, you know?"

"I…think that's actually what my mother said. In…you know…Ma language."

"Does it bother you?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she focused on her hands, which had taken hold of Maura's. Her thumbs were running across the tops of her hands in slow, absentminded caresses.

When had she started doing that?

Finally, she said, "Does it bother me that Ma was right, you mean?" She shrugged. "She'll never let me forget it, but…it's okay."

"No, I mean – " Maura cut herself off. "I don't know what I mean, Jane, but you're always so…uncomfortable…when people assume that you – that you're attracted to – "

Jane forced herself not to wince; that deserved an honest answer, but she really didn't quite know what that honest answer was.

She took a deep breath. _What the hell?_ she thought. _If the Percoset shoots holes in my filter big enough to drive a truck through, I might as well take advantage of it._

So she opened her mouth and let whatever words wanted to tumble out to do so. "I hate proving all those bastards and their snarky comments right. The way they said it – it was meant as an insult, Maura. I know it's not, and it shouldn't be, but that's what they meant."

"Oh."

Jane squeezed her hands, seeing the distress in her eyes. She realized that could be taken as a rejection and just barely stopped herself from lifting one of those hands to her lips and kissing it. Instead, she said quietly, "Look, I've taken a lot of crap all my life for being who I was. For being…chunky and strong as a kid. For being into sports _and_ good at school. For wanting to be a cop. I just wanted…one thing in my life to…."

Maura's face fell. "Are you sure you're…?"

Jane smiled and nodded firmly. "I've never let what other people think stop me from doing what I wanted. Would've never switched to Homicide in the first place if I did."

"But – "

"Honest, Maura – I really thought about it. It makes a lot of things make sense, you know?"

Distracted, Maura smiled. "Like what?"

"Like the fact that I have never in all my life called anyone 'honey.' Except you. And I do that without even thinking about it. Like the fact that I…well, I touch you more than I do my other friends. Stuff like that. I never thought about it before. I don't think I even noticed it, but after Ma talked to me…I realized what I'd been doing."

Maura tilted her head. "Your mother does all of those things. I thought perhaps it was…well, normal."

"It is for her, but I don't. I never have." She looked down at their joined hands, then back up again. "And after – after Hoyt…I hardly touch people at all, unless I have to. Let alone let them touch me."

She reached out and tucked Maura's loose hair behind her ears. "Listen, this…." She sighed and gestured vaguely at her stomach. "This…." She leaned forward and, experimentally, brushed her lips against Maura's again. It still felt good. Better than good. _Damn it…Ma's never gonna let me live this down_. "This is about all I can…it'll give us time to…get used to the idea."

Maura noticed clinically that there were goose bumps on Jane's arm before she glanced up at her, beginning to smile. "You really…?"

Jane returned the smile wholeheartedly. "Really. If you want to." She watched as Maura's mouth opened and closed several times, though she could only nod. "Ask. Whatever it is, ask. Y-you deserve to."

Nervously, Maura stuttered, "C-can I…?"

Jane smiled as Maura leaned forward, but then, impatient, she leaned forward herself and playfully brushed their noses against each other when Maura hesitated.

More confident now, Maura leaned in and brushed their lips together. It lasted longer this time and they were both a little breathless when Maura pulled back and tilted her head. "That feels surprisingly…"

"…not weird," Jane said.

Maura chuckled. "Crudely put, but yes. This is…new for me."

"Me too."

"I'd have expected at least some mild…. I thought it would be awkward."

Jane nodded. "Me too. But it feels…good." She saw Maura shift, saw something in her expression grow strained. "What?"

"I…."

Mostly to herself, Jane muttered, "This – it sucks that this is so hard for you."

She shook her head, then stood up and began to pace. "I've never – even with…Garrett…." She ran her hands through her hair and stopped to look at Jane. "I had everything material I could ever want. It never occurred to me that I could…ask for…want…something else. This feels like something else."

"Good thing you wanna hook up with a poor kid from Boston, then."

"Jane."

She tilted her head, only half kidding. "Like I said, I got more parenting from my parents than I wanted. It never occurred to me that someone would have to ask for that stuff." She shrugged. "Real life's probably halfway in between us."

"Maybe that's why…." Maura trailed off and looked away.

Jane struggled to her feet, lurching sideways as her right leg threatened to give out on her, then padded over to where Maura had stopped, staring at the wall.

"Why what?" she said gently, wrapping her arms around Maura from behind, half in comfort and half because she was partly convinced she was going to collapse at any second.

That didn't feel strange, either.

In fact, it felt pretty damn good.

It took a moment before Maura's ramrod stiff posture relaxed and she ducked her head with a sigh. Finally, she turned around, though she stayed within the circle of Jane's arms. "Why we meet each other halfway," she said. "Why we…fit."

"Maybe. Probably why we butt heads sometimes too."

Maura nodded. Finally, she bit her lower lip and asked, "You really don't call anyone else 'honey?' Your mother does all the time."

Jane grinned. "Nope. Nobody. Well, Jo. Sometimes." She leaned forward and rested her forehead against Maura's. "Not even Jo gets 'sweetie.' It took me a good three days to even realize that came outta my mouth. I was a real idiot. It's like all of me but my head knew."

They stood there for a few minutes, until Maura noticed that Jane's legs had begun to tremble underneath her. "You should lay down," she stammered. "It's been a long day."

Jane allowed herself to be led to bed, but rolled her eyes and groused, "Yeah, real hard. I took a nap. Sat like a lump while you washed my hair, and stood up all by myself."

Maura managed to toss a fondly exasperated look over her shoulder as she headed to the bathroom to get Jane's pain medication.

"Just one," Jane said, waving her off.

Maura sat on the side of the bed, waiting for Jane to relax. "I'll wake you for dinner."

Jane nodded drowsily. "Kay."

After Jane drifted off to sleep, Maura allowed herself to process everything that had just happened to her.

Somehow, it didn't seem strange at all to be grinning so widely it was painful and to be wiping tears from her eyes all at the same moment.


	17. Chapter 17

**The More Things Change**, Part 17 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Ahh, late spring. The time when anyone working in education in any way says, "What was I *thinking*?" Anyway, I know practically _every_one has at least touched on the "not my type" thing, but I had to deal with the elephant in the room at some point. Hopefully this was a fun way to do so.

* * *

><p>Maura spent a couple of hours doing something she'd never done before she'd met Jane: staring mindlessly at the television, petting the furry little creature who had curled up on her lap.<p>

It was a guilty pleasure she still didn't indulge in often, but it was nice sometimes to just be, without the pressure of interacting with others in any meaningful way.

Daydreaming was a wonderful thing; she made a mental note to remember to thank Jane someday for introducing her to it.

As the afternoon wore on, she stirred herself to let Jo out into the backyard – the little dog was absolutely thrilled to have such abundant space to run around in sans leash – and then wandered back to her kitchen.

What to make for dinner?

She felt drained; so much had happened in so short a time. If not for Jane's injuries, she would have suggested takeout or even going out to eat, but she didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone just yet. She was too far out into the suburbs for local restaurants to deliver the way they could to Jane's apartment, so that left her to her own devices.

Jane had offered so much of herself over the last few days – certainly by finally giving voice to the undercurrents that had surrounded them for so long, but even simply by allowing Maura to care for her, to see her in pain and vulnerable.

Maybe _that_ was contributing as much to her exhaustion as anything else?

Comfort food, then.

It didn't take long to assemble a tray with some sandwiches and two ice cream sandwiches she'd found deep in the recesses of her freezer. She was just about to pour two glasses of milk when her phone rang.

* * *

><p>"Your mother called," Maura announced an hour later as she carried a tray of fluffernutters and grilled cheese sandwiches – neither of which she'd ever had before meeting Jane, and both of which she'd adored immediately – into the guest room. "She wants to take you to your physical therapy appointment tomorrow."<p>

Jane groaned and covered her face with a pillow.

"I told her she could drive you home while I run to the grocery store."

Jane's eyes peeked out from above the pillow with skeptical optimism. "How the hell did you get her to agree to that?"

"I told her that as your personal caretaker, I should observe your first session in order to be able to best assist you to continue your therapy at home. _Here_. While you're here."

Jane's eyes sparkled; she'd caught the slip of the tongue. "You are a devious woman, Maura Isles, considering you can't lie."

"I try."

"Thank you." She shifted in the bed and frowned, sensing the beginning of…. _Oh, goddammit. _"Some of that is for you, right?" Maura nodded, though her worried frown indicated she'd heard the sudden strain creep into Jane's voice. "I…um…can you help me sit up?"

When Jane outright groaned as Maura helped her scoot back against the head of the bed, she was immediately besieged by worry. Was it her stitches? Had she torn something lose? Had she had a setback? "Are you all right?"

Jane's breathing was shallow. She pointed vaguely towards her back.

Maura frowned as she pulled Jane forward to lean against her shoulder, then yanked the back of her shirt up, inspecting the bandage on her back. "No blood," she muttered, mostly to herself.

She pushed a couple of pillows against Jane's stomach so she could lean on them. "Under the bandage," she whispered, again to herself.

She eased the surgical tape off Jane's skin, swiping at her now-watering eyes with irritation – darn her lacrimal gland, anyway – forcing herself to be dispassionate as she examined the healing but still angry-looking wound.

"Jane…."

Jane was pressed forward into the pillow, shaking. Sweat had begun to bead at her temples. She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strained squeak.

Maura rubbed her back, wracking her brain for the possible cause of the sudden setback, then paused when she felt the movement under her fingers. "Oh," she breathed. "Your back is spasming."

Jane nodded frantically.

"Jane…to fix this, I'll have to massage your back. Even near the exit wound."

More emphatic nodding.

By the time Maura managed to get the spasm to relax, Jane had torn a hole into her pillow. She collapsed backwards with a sigh. "Thanks." She paused to catch her breath. "Was hoping that wouldn't happen till the holes healed."

"Does your back…does that happen often?"

Jane shrugged. "Couple times a week. Felt different…'cause of…."

Maura frowned. A couple of times a week? Even with regular yoga sessions? "You should see a chiropractor. Or at least a masseuse."

"Don't need one now."

"Excuse me?"

"Did a damn good job there, Doctor Isles. Sure pathology was the right career path? You'd have made an awesome chiropractor."

"Have you ever _been_ to a chiropractor?" Maura asked skeptically. "How are you qualified to offer a comparison?"

Jane waved her off. "Sandwiches?" Maura settled the tray on Jane's lap, raising her eyebrow at the frown she got in response. "You too."

Maura climbed into the bed next to Jane, resting against the headboard for a few long moments.

The surge of adrenaline had been astonishing – it nearly rivaled what she'd felt those first moments after she'd heard the shot and saw Jane collapse.

Jane ate quietly for a few minutes, then finally said, "Maura?"

"Hmm?"

"About Garrett?"

She flinched. Maura felt herself flinch, and cursed herself for it. She had nothing to hide. Aside from its eventual end in the Fairfields' back lawn, her relationship with Garrett had been…well…bland.

"No, I just – I was thinking about you and – you know, asking for stuff. Didn't he ever…spoil you?"

"I suppose," she said with a sigh. "But I never…."

"You never asked."

"No." She glanced sideways. "It's not what you think. He was kind."

"Until he murdered his brother." She caught the hurt look and sighed. "Sorry."

"He…did things for me. He took me places. Bought me gifts. But…." She sighed. "Any gifts he gave me…I could easily have bought for myself. So they didn't mean much. I think I wanted…this."

Jane smiled slightly. "A beat-up cop with holes in her?"

"No. Companionship. Understanding."

Jane nodded seriously. "You got that."

"I know."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Maura puzzling her way through something, until she finally ventured, "Looking back on it now – it was like when my parents adopted me." She looked to her left and saw, as she expected, Jane frowning at her. "You asked why, remember? I've always suspected I knew why. It was simple: it was what you did."

"I thought you said – "

"I did. I was." A beat. "I thought I was." She glanced at Jane. "I think it was infatuation, more than love."

"Aw, Maura, don't – I mean, just cause we – it doesn't make that matter less."

Maura tried to cover her sniffle. "No, I – I did love him. Just…it was twenty-year-old love, you know? I think I loved the idea of being in love. Of…of someone being in love with me. But…."

"What?" Jane asked gently.

"I used to think I had friends, too. Clearly my judgment is fallible."

Jane's mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out.

"Once I made a real friend, I realized what I thought were friends…weren't." She picked some lint off the blanket. "I'm beginning to think the same might have been true of Garrett."

She'd once equated her feelings for Garrett with having taken a 'substance,' and – she now realized – there was more truth to that than she had suspected at the time.

Substances – her implication had clearly been _illegal substance_ – were effective because they altered a person's perception, whether it was of the outside world or of his or her own feelings, pain, emotions.

There was no real emotional basis to the high one got from illegal drugs – it was manufactured, an illusion with no depth.

Garrett had been the illusion; Jane was nothing _but_ depth.

"So…?"

"It was the expectation." It was easier to speak about in the abstract: "You went to college, married someone of equal or higher social status, established yourself in your profession, had one to two children, and began the cycle all over again."

"Your whole life was planned out like that?"

Maura got up and began to pace.

After a few minutes, she stopped and sighed. "Except that because I was adopted, I knew I would never be fully accepted into that social circle." She ran her hands through her hair. "You saw with Garrett. Blood is everything." She turned her back to Jane and stared at the mirror. "I used to think – when Garrett left for Milan – that maybe it was a convenient way of…."

"Maura, no…."

At that, Maura turned back around. "It was a reasonable assumption, really. His family would never have approved of him marrying someone…like me."

Jane spluttered incoherently.

Maura continued quietly, "So I thought perhaps he was…."

Jane's eyes softened as she tilted her head. "Family be damned," she said sadly. "Why would anyone wanna leave you?"

Maura shrugged. "My parents adopted me because they were supposed to have children. Garrett was supposed to marry someone who…he would never marry someone without a verifiable bloodline. And his parents certainly wouldn't have approved."

"Okay, first off," Jane said, "you're not a damn dog! And second of all, how the hell much more hypocritical can you get? Judging you when one of your own kids is illegitimate."

"That's how it works."

"That's screwed up. Who you are should matter a whole lot more than…who…I mean, what your…."

Maura shook her head. "That's not at all how I grew up. Where I – it _mattered_ that I wasn't really my parents' child."

"But you are." Jane shook her head. "Maura…whatever your…you can build your own family, you know?" Maura remained silent. "That matters more than blood." She watched Maura as her shoulders slumped. "Ask my Ma. She thinks you're family already, you know?"

Maura shook her head, but eventually relented and came back to sit on the side of the bed. "I know."

Jane reached out and took her hand, rubbing her thumb across Maura's palm. She allowed the silence to lengthen, just sitting there and holding Maura's hand, for several minutes. Finally, she said, "What was it you wanted to ask for? Before we got all…distracted?"

For the second time, Maura flinched.

"Hey, no. No. Don't do that. Ask me." Maura said nothing for a very long moment. "Hey?" Jane glanced at her and tentatively brushed a kiss against the shoulder nearest her. "Tell me? Please?"

Finally, Maura whispered slowly, as though the words were being dragged from her, "I had – I had night-nightmares last night."

Jane squeezed her hand. "I know. I heard you." She eyed her. "Sucks that we both dream about me dying."

Finally, Maura turned and made hesitant eye contact. "C-could I…?" She gestured helplessly between them.

"You need to feel me breathing."

Maura gasped and jerked her eyes to Jane's face. "How did you…?"

Jane winced, but was determined to honor Maura's step forward. "Remember after Hoyt…the last time? I was having nightmares, and you stayed with me at my place?"

Maura nodded silently.

"You even noticed, remember? You said every time you got up, I'd – "

"Dreams."

"Nightmares. I kept hearing Hoyt say he'd – he'd rape you. Had a teacup in my lap. Duct tape. The whole shebang."

"Jane…."

"Long as I knew you were there, I knew you were okay." She glanced at Maura with a wry grin. "Just steer clear of the holes, okay?"

"Thank you," Maura said, looking away as her eyes filled with tears.

"God," Jane said with an exaggerated groan. "No crying."

"But these are happy tears."

Jane brushed a few of the tears away. "Make it a happy smile instead."

Maura sniffed. "I'll try."

* * *

><p>That night, after Jane walked slowly back from the bathroom and carefully slipped under the covers, she smiled when she felt the tentative touch on her arm. She rolled her head to the side and nodded slightly.<p>

After a moment, Maura shifted closer until her head lay pressed against Jane's shoulder and her hand came to rest gently on her stomach, just above the upper edge of the bandage there.

She released a deep sigh of relief.

Jane watched her with a grin, reflecting that this, also, did not feel at all strange. In fact, it felt quite natural, and wasn't really all that different from how they'd interacted on previous nights; true, there was a bit more touching, but not all _that_ much.

She began to realize that the line they had just crossed had been awfully blurry to begin with.

"So…" she drawled, "…I gotta ask. What was that whole thing about me not being your type?"

Maura glanced up at her and bit her lip. "You're not."

Jane raised her eyebrows and made a gesture encompassing both of them.

Maura chuckled. "You're not," she insisted. "A 'type' is the sort of person one is, in general, attracted to. You're not."

"Ah. It's 'cause I'm a – "

"I'm not, in general, attracted to brunettes."

That caught Jane completely off-guard and she burst into laughter, then gasped, muttering a curse as she instinctively pulled her knees up to her stomach.

"What?" Maura's face was a mess of conflicting emotions – somehow she managed to be laughing and looking worried and regretful all at the same moment.

"I was expecting you to say it's 'cause I'm a girl."

"Oh," Maura said.

"You – you did notice that I'm a girl, right?" Jane asked dubiously.

"Of course. I just don't see what that has to do with it."

Jane grinned and closed her eyes. "Go to sleep, Maura. PT in the hospital sucks enough. Outpatient PT is hell."


	18. Chapter 18

**The More Things Change**, Part 18 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: About the fluffernutters? I'm one of those weirdos who thinks peanut butter is best enjoyed (okay, _only_ enjoyed) unadorned by anything other than bread. (No jelly, no fluff, no chocolate...nada.) However, Jane likes 'em, so there we go. :-) As for this part, I think I wrote about fifteen openings to the first scene before I even began posting; I got stuck here for probably a month at the time. I've probably written five more as I've been trying to edit the darned thing.

* * *

><p>When Jane woke up the next morning, not to the blare of alarms but to the feel of a hand gently smoothing her hair back from her face, she smiled and said, "That <em>almost<em> makes up for having to go to PT today."

Maura grinned. "Good. I was hoping it might."

Breakfast had been quiet; Jane had to force herself to eat, and did so only because of the worried frowns Maura would shoot her whenever she stopped eating.

By the time she was done, her Lucky Charms were mush, but she soldiered through and swallowed every last bite.

Jane had grunted with effort as she eased herself into the front seat of the rented Jeep, but even Maura was forced to admit that she had certainly improved since she'd barely been able to walk inside a few days before.

Still, she had to force herself to think about something other than the beads of sweat on Jane's far-too-pale temple and sighed, focusing on keeping her hands from shaking as she put the key in the ignition.

Jane, of course, noticed anyway. Her hand snaked out to rest on Maura's knee and gave it a slight squeeze. "I'm okay," she said.

Maura nodded, though it was clear to both of them she was being more polite than sincere. To distract herself, she said, "You asked once if I believed in love at first sight."

"Yeah. I remember." Jane eyed her. "You said you didn't."

"I said it was narcissism."

Jane glanced at her as she pulled into the street. "Yeah?"

"It is. But – " Jane raised her eyebrows in question. "I believe in love at sixth sight," she finally admitted.

Jane stared at her for nearly a minute, mouth hanging open in shock until she finally spluttered something incoherent as Maura stopped at a red light. Finally, she managed to squeal, "Holy _crap_." She cleared her throat and continued in a more normal voice, "You counted?"

Maura smiled. "No. It wasn't until much, much later that I looked back and realized…." She snuck a glance at Jane just as the light changed. "In fact, it was talking to your mother – "

"Stop!" Jane blurted, interrupting her, wide-eyed and nearly frantic. "No! I don't wanna know that you…no…."

It took a moment to figure out what had caused the horrified reaction, but when she had, Maura rolled her eyes with a grin. "Jane. I didn't tell her _that_. She was only asking how you and I became friends."

"Oh," Jane said, slightly mollified. She held out for all of thirty seconds before she said, "So what _was_ sixth sight?"

"It was Frost's first crime scene after he switched to Homicide. You got him a washcloth from the victim's bathroom."

"_Hey," she'd said, neutral and casual, businesslike. Almost too businesslike, based on what she'd observed from the detective at their five prior shared crime __scenes. "Here. Wash up, then go check the back yard for evidence, okay?"_

Jane grinned. "I remember. The CSIs were so pissed at me…but he'd puked all over his shirt."

"And you told him not to worry about it."

"_What the hell possessed you to switch in the first place?" Crowe's acidic commentary trailed after Frost's back as he fled to the backyard._

"And yelled at Crowe for giving him a hard time. I remember." She paused. "But…what…?"

"It was so…kind of you."

She shrugged. "I always kinda stood up for the little guy, you know?"

_Jane had scowled at Crowe, staring him down until he'd muttered something about checking the kitchen for evidence, before she'd looked back and caught Maura's eye. "What a jerk, huh?"_

"I was a strange child," Maura said quietly.

"So you've said."

Maura's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "No one ever…."

She trailed off and shrugged helplessly; Jane's heart lurched, as it so often did when Maura let these little bits and pieces of vulnerability show through.

She thought back to that day and remembered seeing that little lost look and reacting to it, even then. "Crowe went after you next, didn't he?"

"_Oh, give me a freakin' __**break**__, man! The guy dropped from a heart attack! Just __**call**_ _it already!"_

"Yes."

Jane's eyes narrowed. "He was pissed…he wanted to call it a natural death. It was Labor Day. He had a damn barbecue to go to."

"_Damn it, doctor. For Christ's sake, I got things to do! Damn it, I knew Doctor Stephens should never have retired."_

"And I found – "

"That little dot…a needle stick. It was poison, wasn't it?"

"I didn't know that then."

_She'd instinctively avoided Crowe's harsh, angry glare. "Detective Rizzoli?"_

_Jane had crouched next to her, throwing a dirty look over her shoulder when Crowe sighed loudly. "Thought I said to call me Jane."_

_It went against much of her upbringing, but there was something so sincere, so…compelling…about Detective Rizzoli that she smiled slightly. "Jane. Do you see that?"_

_Jane hadn't questioned her in the slightest; rather, she obligingly leaned closer and peered at the man's neck. "Yeah, I see that." She glanced up, triumphant. "Looks like you're stuck here, Crowe."_

Jane grinned. "Oh, I know. That would have been speculating." Her grin slowly faded. "Crowe was bein' a jerk. Well, Crowe _is_ a jerk, but he was…even for him…."

"And you told him – "

"_Oh, come on, Rizzoli. It's a damn bug bite." He'd walked over to Maura, towering over her in a blatant attempt at intimidation. "No one cares about this __creep any way. He's got no family, no job – I mean, look at this dump! Just call it, Doc, so we can get the hell outta this rat hole."_

_Jane stood between the medical examiner and her fellow detective. "Back off," she said, low and dangerous. He took one step closer and found himself face to face with a very, very pissed off detective. "I mean it. Back. The. Hell. Off."_

"I told him to back the hell off or he'd spend September in the hospital."

"Actually, I believe you said – "

Her grin grew slightly sheepish. "Okay, so I said I'd shove a pair of barbecue tongs up his – "

Maura bit her lip as she pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. "I've owed you a thank you for that for a long time."

_When Crowe finally stalked off, muttering obscenities under his breath, Maura had kept her eyes firmly trained on the body in front of her. It wouldn't do to let this woman, who she'd so recently met, realize how much this one act had meant to her._

_Still, as Jane crouched next to her, she'd dared a slight smile._

_The next day, she managed to get to the precinct early enough that no one saw her quietly make her way upstairs and leave the cup of Starbucks coffee on Jane's desk. _

"Three years, almost, isn't it?"

"Give or take a few weeks, yes."

Jane glanced at her with a playful dare in her eyes. "So thank me."

"But your appointm… – but we're – it's – "

Jane just raised her eyebrows until Maura smiled back.

"Okay," she said, leaning closer.

* * *

><p>Jane was focused tightly on one thing and one thing only – that she would not cry. She was aware of Maura's eyes on her; she could almost feel her struggling to keep it together as she watched the physical therapist push her through one stretching and strengthening routine after another.<p>

She had held up reasonably well throughout the morning; it was only when Jane had stumbled and nearly gone down trying to climb the three practice stairs that she'd had to excuse herself and go outside.

Finally, when the physical therapist left her for a moment balancing on a therapy ball, she decided they could both use a little distraction.

"Maura?" she said between gasps; it hurt like hell every time she had to correct her position, and she was quickly finding this one ridiculous little exercise was more difficult than just about any other exercise she had ever done.

"Are you all right?"

Jane darted a glance at her, reaching up briefly to shove her sweaty bangs back off her face. "Peachy. Just peachy." She saw Maura's confusion and shook her head. "When's the last time you even _talked_ to your parents?"

Maura didn't answer for a moment, but she did approach Jane and rest her hands on her shoulders, steadying her for a few precious moments before she retreated and allowed the torture-by-exercise-ball to continue.

Finally, she said quietly, "They called to wish me a merry Christmas."

Jane froze, just sat there absolutely stock still, and gaped at Maura. "They're idiots."

There was a slight hint of displeasure in Maura's voice. "They're busy."

"They're _idiots_," Jane insisted. "You're their daughter. How could they just – just ignore you?"

"They sent me a birthday card."

Jane's eyes closed in reflex.

She'd taken Maura out to dinner on her birthday. She'd given her the notarized promise to refrain from teasing her over her reddish-brown stains. She'd hand-delivered a tuna sandwich from her favorite deli for lunch and brought her fresh Starbucks coffee in the afternoon.

Hell, Frost had bought her a small bouquet of flowers and Korsak had given her a bag of fudge clusters, though not without a sly look at Jane as he did so.

Jane shook her head. "I know I complain about Ma all the time, but…but that's not _right_."

She heard Maura swallow thickly behind her.

"And you deserve more," she added quietly, conscious of the other patients in the room.

"Well, my only other option is a mob assassin."

Jane rolled her eyes, though she appreciated the attempt at macabre humor.

After a moment, though, and a few wobbles as she began to tire, she had to add, "Well…and my Ma and Pop. Even if we didn't – " She glanced around again. "You savin' Frankie – you're stuck with them forever. You know that, right?"

Maura's smile was evident in the tone of her voice. "Your mother did say something to that effect."

Jane groaned, seeing Angela at the door and noting her mother's pinched, worried look.

"Speak of the devil."

Maura followed her glance and frowned. "I'm beginning to understand your point of view."


	19. Chapter 19

**The More Things Change**, Part 19 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: I debated about the end of this chapter, but I just kept coming back to the thought that, at some point, Jane's going to have to deal with a weird kind of survivor's guilt – she's just too selfless to be comfortable knowing she made everyone miserable, even with the best of intentions.

* * *

><p>It was self-preservation, really.<p>

She'd picked up the skill by the time she was ten, having already broken several bones and bled over every surface in the house. By the time she was a teenager, she'd turned it into an art form.

She could have Angela absolutely, one hundred percent convinced that they were having a real, honest to God, heart-to-heart mother-daughter conversation, just by a few appropriately placed nods and the occasional "uh huh."

She had put that skill to good use in the car, really only paying attention when she'd noticed Maura's house key on her key chain.

"How long have you had that?" she asked suspiciously.

Jane groaned. "Ma."

"What?"

"How is that your business?"

"You're my daughter."

Jane closed her eyes and fought for her composure; whether it was pain, fatigue, or even the medications, the thought of the night of Maura's kidnapping did strange things to her insides. "Let it go, Ma."

"Jane."

She shook her head firmly. "Not now."

The lecture continued the entire way home, but only isolated bits and pieces filtered through Jane's determined inattention.

"…_of all the…"_

"…_pigheaded…"_

"…_and Tommy too!"_

"…_be the death of me yet…"_

By the time they'd pulled into Maura's driveway, she'd managed to tune out the voice entirely. She lurched to her feet, forcing down a gasp as she bumped into the car door when she turned to close it, then forced her exhausted and leaden legs to work as she trudged to the front door, slipped her key inside, dodged Jo Friday, and laid down on the couch on her side.

She was vaguely aware of her mother continuing; once she was on a roll, there was no stopping her. Jane supposed she should be grateful that Angela was still yelling, though, and not asking too-personal questions about her sex life.

Though, now that she thought of it, it was damn strange that she _hadn't_.

She closed her eyes, pretending to sleep, though her mother just kept going.

"…_too dangerous…"_

"…_stupid idea to be a police officer…"_

"…_dragged Frankie in after you…"_

Several things finally happened all at once: her mother paused to take a breath; Jo Friday began yapping excitedly; and she heard Maura's key turn in the lock.

"Oh, thank God," she whispered into the couch cushion. She kept her eyes closed; she'd tried feigning sleep earlier and it hadn't worked…

…but Maura might fall for it, and she was reasonably certain that she would insist that Angela at least quiet down even if she didn't.

She had to restrain a smile as Maura said, predictably, "Mrs. – Angela. Please. Jane needs her rest."

"She can still hear me."

The silence that settled over the room was so profound that it made Jane's ears itch.

She hid her clenched fist under her side when Maura continued quietly, "You might not like what she did. I certainly don't. But yelling at her only makes both of you miserable."

"No, it doesn't," Angela insisted stubbornly. "It makes me feel better."

Jane fought with everything she had to stay calm and appear relaxed as Maura crossed the room; she spared a moment to be grateful for her foresight in curling up on her side facing the back of the couch.

"Angela," Maura said. Her voice was shaking. Jane winced. That meant tears. She hated it when Maura cried. "Jane didn't do this to hurt you. She did this because of how much she loves Frankie. She didn't think any further than that – than keeping him safe. Just…be glad she survived and will be okay. That's all you can do."

It wasn't over; that much was clear from the disgruntled "hmph" that was her mother's only comment as she stomped out of the room.

"You can turn around now," Maura said, her amusement evident in the tone of her voice.

"I'm asleep."

The couch dipped as Maura sat down and absent-mindedly began rubbing her calves. "I didn't know you talk in your sleep."

"I've got lots of skills you don't know about." She cracked one eye opened and grinned at Maura. "Unfortunately, getting my mom to shut up once she gets going isn't one of them."

"I think I only made things worse."

At that, Jane did roll over, easing her feet down to the floor and reaching out for Maura to help her sit up. "Not possible. I don't think she'd be any more pissed at me if I'd burned the house down."

Maura smiled uneasily and shrugged.

"Seriously, Maura. She credits you with civilizing me – ever since I went out to dinner with them and knew which was the salad fork."

Maura's smile became a little less strained.

"She's not mad at you. She's probably pissed at herself because you're not yelling your head off at me – she hates it when people deal with things better than her."

"But I'm not, Jane. I'm not dealing with it. I'm just – "

Jane squeezed her hand. "You're freaked out. You're having nightmares. You've cried more in the last two weeks than in all the time I've known you, and you cried about that damn PUKE getup. But you're selfless enough to put that aside because your head knows I didn't do this to hurt you."

Maura frowned, but managed a smile when reached over and kissed her gently on the cheek. "And I'm damn grateful you know that. But Ma can't put her head in charge. Ever. Where do you think I get it from?"

"But – "

Jane shook her head. "Sometimes, with my family, all you can do is chalk it up to Rizzoli craziness and forget about it."

Maura sighed. "That seems so…I don't know if I can understand that."

Jane rested her head against Maura's shoulder. "I'm beat," she said, then glanced up to see the expected frown on Maura's face. "I'm not tryin' to duck out of the conversation, really." She shrugged. "Seriously, Maura, PT kicked my ass. Mind if I take a _real_ nap?"

Maura squeezed the hand that had come to rest on her thigh. "Of course not." She tucked a hand under Jane's elbow and helped her stand, noting with some concern that her legs were shaking under her. "You didn't let your mother help you inside, did you?"

Jane shook her head. "She was too busy yelling." She glanced at Maura, who had wrapped a supportive arm around her waist. "I kinda bumped something getting out of the car. My back's kinda…." She shrugged. "It hurts."

"I'll check it when I change your bandages tonight," Maura said as she eased Jane down onto the bed. "Unless you think it's bleeding now." After Jane shook her head, she added nervously, "Do you want…is there anything I can…?"

A long silence passed, then Jane forced herself to open her eyes and allow the vulnerability she'd been hiding all day to show itself. "Willya stay? Here? Please?"

Maura smiled and brushed Jane's hair out of her eyes. She'd meant it to be a light gesture, but froze when their eyes met at close distance. She leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. "I have to put away the groceries, but I'll be right back. I promise."

Jane nodded. "Kay."

Maura blinked back tears as she put away the salad that she'd bought for later and hastily chopped some spinach for Bass. Something about Jane's demeanor was definitely…off.

It wasn't the surly ill temper that usually meant she was in pain, and it wasn't the quiet fear she'd begun to associate with Jane being afraid.

When she went back to the guest room, she found Jane laying in bed, rigid as a plank of wood, hands clenched into tight fists at her side.

She pushed the blankets aside and crawled into the bed, resting her head as lightly as she could against Jane's shoulder.

The muffled sob made her eyes dart up to Jane's face, which had contorted into a mask of agony. She pressed closer, holding her hand tightly, not saying anything, waiting for Jane to make the first move.

"I didn't want – " Jane started, then swallowed another hiccupping sob.

"You didn't want what, Jane?"

"Ma's so upset she can't think straight, Frankie can barely talk to me, Pop's workin' all day and all night so he doesn't have to talk to any of us, you're crying all the time…."

Maura rubbed her arm soothingly. "Because we all – we all love you, Jane. Nearly losing you – "

"But I didn't _want_ to hurt anybody – and that's all I did. Everyone is upset or mad or – " She cut herself off with a groan. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"I know. And, Jane, your selflessness is – it's one of the things I've always admired most about you. It was certainly in character for you to do what you did. And the fact that what bothers you now is our reaction to it just proves that you care about all of us more than you care for yourself."

"So how do I get past this? How do I get Ma to stop being angry? How do I make you stop crying all the time?"

"Give us time, Jane. And give yourself time."

Jane heaved a deep breath, visibly collecting herself, and carefully rolled to her side so that she was facing Maura. She very gently traced her jaw with a finger. "Maura, I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean for it to hurt you like it did," she said softly.

Maura smiled and reached up to capture her hand. "I know."

She watched as that one sentence seemed to provide some absolution, as the tension in Jane's face faded and her eyes began to drift shut.

"Sleep," she said. "I'll be here."

Jane didn't reply aloud, but it wasn't long before Maura found Jane's arm draped over her upper body. She happily curled closer and returned the favor.


	20. Chapter 20

**The More Things Change**, Part 20 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Two-thirds of the way done. Unbelievable. Also, I didn't realize this part was so short when I divided up the scenes into chapters. Sorry about that; the next few are longer.

* * *

><p>Her thoughts drifted lazily as she napped her way through the afternoon. She hadn't meant to sleep, really. In fact, she'd meant to keep watch over Jane, who had appeared – though more relaxed – still tense as she'd slipped towards sleep.<p>

Jane still hadn't asked how many people had died in all during the rampage at the precinct, and Maura dreaded the day she would. It was bad enough with her focus on her suffering family – when she took on the added mantle of true survivor's guilt, Maura knew they would be in for a slew of additional difficulties.

Still, it was hard to worry about that with Jane's rhythmic breathing gusting against her collarbone, and she allowed herself to drift.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up with a gasp, echoes of that muffled, muted, _wrong_ gunshot ringing in her ears.

She pulled Jane closer, closing her eyes in relief when she heard the steady, even beating of her heart.

That time, she felt herself drift off – felt her limbs growing heavy, her thoughts slowing down, until her eyes slipped closed.

She woke up just in time to stop herself from yelling Jane's name. She bit back a quiet sob and pressed her ear against Jane's shoulder, counting backwards by sevens until she was able to take a breath without shuddering.

Jane made a quiet, mewling noise in her sleep, and wrapped her arms around Maura before relaxing with a sigh. Maura, surrounded by that tangle of long limbs, felt her nightmare recede a little and drifted back towards sleep.

She'd known something was wrong the moment she'd woken up from her nap to Jo Friday's insistent yapping only to find herself alone.

Her last conscious memory was of being wrapped in Jane's arms – a new experience, to be sure, but a surprising pleasure from someone who'd never thought of herself as a very tactile person.

She rolled to her feet, noting that the sun was beginning to set, and ventured out into the living room, where she found Jane sitting on the couch, hugging a throw pillow to her stomach.

"Jane?"

"Maura. Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Are you all right?"

Jane's face was pale and there was sweat beading at her temple, but she nodded briefly. "Jo…wanted out."

Maura took in her frustrated, churlish look and sighed. "I'll do it. Give yourself time, Jane. Yesterday you'd have needed my help to get out of bed."

Her only answer was a scowl, so Maura just shook her head and led Jo Friday to the French doors that opened to the backyard. By the time she came back, as she'd expected, Jane had glanced up sheepishly at her.

"Just hurting from today. Told you PT was hell." She snorted. "And last time all I did was squeeze a damn hand…spring…thing."

Maura spun on her heel and headed for the kitchen counter, which was currently littered with several prescription bottles. "I'll get you some – "

"No," Jane said flatly.

"But – "

"No. Not yet."

"Jane…you're in pain."

"Yeah, I noticed that."

Maura frowned. Her voice was slightly unsteady. "Then please take some…." She trailed off at the firm shake of Jane's head. "But why…?"

"I am not taking drugs," Jane said forcefully. "This whole thing started with drugs."

"But these are prescribed," Maura protested, sitting next to her and smoothing the curly ringlets of hair away from her temple. "And you – "

"Oh yeah? And what percentage of drug addicts are prescription?" She'd meant it as an off-hand comment, but her eyes darted back to Maura's face when she heard the indrawn breath. "Good God, don't actually do the math. Please."

"A lot."

Jane forced herself to relax. "Look, I'll take some tonight. For now, I'll tough it out. It's too easy to get hooked."

"I hate…seeing you hurt," Maura said quietly. "That's all."

"So distract me. Tell me a story. Sing me a song. Teach my dog to do a trick. I don't care."

Maura smiled and began to lean towards Jane, though she pulled back at the last moment to make eye contact. At the slight nod, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against Jane's.

Several minutes later, a slightly breathless Jane laughed. "You're right…that was distracting." She smiled slightly, squeezing Maura's hand. "You know, if that's what kissing's supposed to feel like…I've never done it before."

Maura arched an eyebrow at her. "You must be exaggerating."

"Nope. But we can't keep doin' that or I'll pass out."

"Well," Maura said, moving to sit on her coffee table facing Jane, "I'm no good at animal training, and you certainly don't want to hear me sing."

"I thought you liked to sing?"

"I do. Very much. I'm just very bad at it."

Jane shrugged. "So tell me a story."

"About what?"

"I dunno. Your fifth birthday party?"

She winced when she saw the reaction flitter across Maura's face.

"You are frigging kidding me."

Maura looked away. "My father had a paper to present at a conference."

Jane enveloped Maura's hands in her own. "Would it incredibly presumptuous of me to tell you that you're never gonna have that problem again?"

Maura smiled shyly. "No," she said, "but you do realize your birthdays are about to become more…complicated?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "No fish forks," she said with a mock scowl.

"I think I can guarantee that, but I'm not promising there won't be salad forks."

"Long as there's some of that champagne, you got yourself a deal."


	21. Chapter 21

**The More Things Change**, Part 21 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: I alluded to Susan briefly earlier in the story. I borrowed her from draft script pages that appeared on LJ a while back.

* * *

><p>By the end of the week, Jane felt well enough to come along on one of Maura's frequent grocery shopping trips.<p>

Or, perhaps, less 'well enough' and more 'bored enough.'

In point of fact, she'd out and out begged. "C'mon, Maura," she said as they made their slow way back to the Jeep. "The only place I've been for _weeks_ is your house and the hospital. I wanna go somewhere, and if that means the grocery store – well, then, damn it, I'll go to the grocery store."

In all honesty, she didn't really see the point of Maura's near-daily trips to the store – but if it gave her a chance to assuage some of her restlessness, she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"_Again, Maura?" she'd said the day of her second physical therapy appointment. "You just went shopping yesterday."_

"_Produce is best when it's fresh," Maura had said, glancing at Mrs. Rizzoli, who was clearly waiting for her chance to begin another lecture. "In Europe, people generally go shopping everyday."_

"_Yeah, well, we're in Boston, not Paris."_

"_Maybe so, but didn't you tell me yesterday how good Bass's strawberries were?"_

_Jane opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut when she heard her mother's voice. "You fed my daughter turtle food?"_

"_Tortoise, Ma," Jane said without thinking, then snorted in amusement at herself. "And it's the other way around. She feeds her tortoise people food."_

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" Maura asked as Jane grabbed the open door to steady herself.

_Don't fall, Rizzoli. She'll abandon you to Ma if you fall._

"Be fine. Just gimme a minute."

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked again, as they crossed the line of traffic, Jane leaning heavily against the cart.

_Damn it, Rizzoli, don't you dare fall down. She'll cry if you fall. Hate it when she cries._

"Yup."

Maura watched Jane move slowly down the aisle with an anxious frown. "Are you sure…?" she ventured.

Jane sighed in exasperation. "I swear to God, Maura, you ask me that one more time and I'm gonna do a damn cartwheel down the aisle."

She made it three more aisles before, on the way to the produce section, she heard Maura take a breath to speak and turned to stare at her, eyebrows raised.

She subsided, though not before she frowned at put a hand over Jane's on the handle of the cart.

"Maura," Jane huffed a few moments later, "I can get the damned spinach. It's only a few ounces."

She forced herself to ignore her wobbly legs as she left the safety of the cart for the crisper section, grabbed the first bunch of spinach she saw, and wavered her way back, handing over the bag triumphantly.

They'd just put the bag into the cart when a frumpy-looking woman approached them with a smile. "Jane?" she said. "Jane Rizzoli? Is – it is you, isn't it?"

Jane darted a glance at Maura, who subtly shrugged. "Yeah?" she asked warily.

"It's me!" Jane glanced at Maura again, who shook her head; she had no idea who the woman was. Sensing her confusion, the woman added, "Susan! We were best friends for a while in elementary school?"

Something about the whole thing seemed…forced, so Maura made it a point to observe both women carefully. Jane was clearly doing her best to keep her expression neutral, but there was a tense guardedness to her eyes that raised her hackles. "Oh, yeah," she said noncommittally. "Hey, Susan. Good to see you."

Susan rushed forward, arms open as if to offer a hug. Some instinct propelled Maura between them, and Susan drew up short. "What's wrong?"

Jane glanced at Maura and grinned, but the expression slipped off her face when she turned to look at Susan. "Gunshot wound. Wanted to be a cop, remember? Hugs hurt."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Maura's face crumple, just for a moment, with profound upset, but her deeply ingrained social graces – the ones groomed in her from her very birth – quickly replaced it with a façade of bland calm.

She edged subtly closer and was rewarded by a slight smile, even as Susan gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God."

Jane shrugged with forced nonchalance. "What…what did you end up doing?"

"I'm a teacher. Sixth grade English and social studies." Jane nodded politely and just waited for it; she knew from long experience how civilians could be expected to react to the realities and dangers of her job. Finally, it came: "How did you get shot?"

Maura, reacting to some subliminal signal she knew she would have to determine later, interjected, "It was on the news. She – "

"You're the one who _shot_ herself?" Susan blurted, horrified. She stared at Jane as if seeing her for the first time, and backed up a step or two.

Jane sighed. "It was stupid."

"No," Maura said, giving her a look, "it was ill-advised, impulsive, and reckless."

"Which is 'Maura' for 'stupid.'"

Maura tipped her head in a gesture that clearly meant 'touché.' Then her some of her earliest training kicked in and she extended a hand. "I'm sorry. I should introduce myself. I'm Doctor Maura Isles." She paused, pursing her lips as she evaluated her statement; in its strictest sense, it was – at that one moment, at least – the absolute truth. "I'm Jane's physical therapist."

She heard Jane snicker beside her and shot her a brief glare, which melted away into worry when she heard Jane's light gasp. She was so distracted that she almost didn't hear Susan's skeptical, "In the grocery store?"

When the comment registered, she forced herself to look away from the growing pallor of Jane's face. "It's an ideal place to walk and lift small weights," she said. "And the cart provides the stability of a walker or a cane," she added, with another quick glare at Jane, who had the decency to look abashed, "for someone who refuses to use one otherwise."

Susan rocked from foot to foot. "Hey," she finally said, awkwardly, "how's your brother Tommy?" She smiled wistfully, glancing down at the tan line on her ring finger. "I kinda had a crush on him when we were little. I remember always hoping when we went to your place that he – "

Jane's face darkened to something approaching its normal hue, for which Maura supposed she should be grateful. "He's…pretty busy," she finally muttered.

Susan's face fell. "Oh. Well…you're looking pretty tired. I should get going."

Jane nodded mechanically. "Good to see you," she said faintly.

They both watched as Susan fled.

Finally, Maura said quietly, "Hugs hurt?"

Jane winced at the pain in her voice. "Not yours." She glanced at Maura. "Swear to God."

"Jane, that's – "

Jane sighed and glanced around them. "In the grocery store? Really?" She shrugged. "Maura, yours don't hurt 'cause you care." She let go of the death grip she had on the cart for just long enough to pat her on the side. "She dumped me for some other kid when I was eight years old, and apparently only hung out with me to drool over Tommy in the first place."

"Jane…."

"I don't – what?"

"You should sit down. You're shaking."

Jane frowned. "Good idea. Where, exactly?"

Maura sighed and rubbed her back gently, then led the way to the checkout counter. She could always have the rest of her groceries delivered.


	22. Chapter 22

**The More Things Change**, Part 22 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: I've been waiting for this chapter ever since the Korsak and Maura scene early on, but I knew Jane wouldn't want to see Frost or Korsak until she felt well enough to project her usual "Jane" image.

* * *

><p>"Hey kiddo."<p>

Jane winced. She hated when Korsak called her that – especially when it was in that 'I adopt sick puppies' voice.

"Hey partner."

She scowled. Frost's wasn't much better – it was his 'talking to the victim' voice.

She couldn't let that stand, now could she? But how to distract them?

Ah.

"Heard you're temporary partners," she said with a sly look.

They glanced at each other, sheepish. "Yeah," Korsak said.

"And you haven't killed each other?"

They shared that caught in the cookie jar look again. Jane suppressed a grin. She'd always known that once Korsak got over his jealousy that they would work well together. They'd already begun to do so on their last few cases; it had begun to feel almost felt like they were all each others' partners.

"Had other priorities," Korsak said as he eased himself down on the couch, as though afraid shaking the cushion might cause Jane to break. "Bustin' Marino's gang, for one."

She tried not to wince. She tried to contain her initial reaction just to the man's name – but she couldn't.

"Did you get 'em?"

"It's complicated."

That could be Cop Speak for a lot of things, and Jane was surprised to realize that she really didn't want to know more. Knowing more would mean she'd have to ask what had actually happened – what the damage was.

What the final death toll was.

She felt like a coward, but the fact was – she didn't want to know. She couldn't handle knowing – not yet, anyway, and she suspected that if she finally worked up the nerve to ask, it would be some night when only Maura would be there to see her cry.

"Thanks," she finally croaked.

Korsak leaned forward and pinned her with a glare he usually reserved for suspects. Jane felt her face flush just slightly under that imposing gaze – it was the same look he'd given her after Hoyt, the first time, when he'd yelled his head off at her for a good half an hour about going in without backup.

Damn it.

Suddenly the animal lover voice didn't seem so bad.

"I wanna talk to you," he said. Frost looked between the two of them and hightailed it for the safety of the kitchen. "What the _hell_ were you thinking?"

Jane's mouth worked silently until she managed to stammer, "…Frankie…."

Korsak frowned. "That's _twice_ I've had to make that call to your parents! At least before it was because of a psychopathic bastard and not somethin' you did to yourself! Not to mention you weren't _dyin_' the last time!"

"But this – Marino – "

"Marino didn't shoot you," Korsak said; his voice was almost a growl. "And you know it. You coulda turned him, Jane. Gotten him to present a better target to SWAT."

"There wasn't _time_, Vince. Maura said Frankie needed surgery right away. He was gonna die. He's my brother. I couldn't let – "

"So you…what? Wanted to join the club? What the hell, Rizzoli?" Jane ducked her head; she couldn't meet that look in his eyes any longer. "You think it'd be easier on your parents to lose _two_ kids in one day? _Three_, when you count Tommy?"

"I – it – it was Frankie's best chance."

"So what? Is that worth your life?"

"I…."

"You got a death wish or something?" He glared at her again, and she felt something inside herself break. "'Cause that matters a hell of a lot more to me than whether some psychopath poked a coupla holes in you."

"This isn't – that wasn't the same – "

"Like hell it wasn't! You said we couldn't be partners 'cause I couldn't trust you to have my back. Well, if you're gonna pull this crap, you're right – I don't. And Frost shouldn't either."

Jane swallowed hard. "K-Korsak…."

"A cop that expects to die is gonna get killed, Rizzoli. And she usually takes a few others with her when she goes." Jane found herself having to blink away tears. "Frost deserves a better partner than that."

Her mouth opened and closed, then she just shook her head in defeat.

He leaned forward again and managed to catch her eyes. His demeanor shifted completely, and he rested a hand on her knee. "Dyin's easy. Finding something worth dying for – people do that all the time. Don't you got anything to live for, Jane?"

Despite herself, her eyes flicked to the kitchen, then she closed her eyes and tried to ignore the fact that she was blushing deeply.

"I thought so."

She reached up to cover her face, but he pulled her hands down. It was only the second time he'd touched them after Hoyt, and the import of that was not lost on either of them, though once again he restrained his touch to the tips of her fingers. "I don't care, Jane, geez. Gimme some credit. Besides, we've all known for years."

Jane suppressed a groan. Had the whole world known?

Christ – did _Crowe_ know?

Wait.

_Years?_

"How…?"

Korsak rolled his eyes. "Kid, it's all over your face every time you look at her." He grinned when Jane winced, then shook his head. "Or it could have been the day you spent ranting about not bein' her type."

"_I mean, really," Jane had said, circling Korsak's desk for the fourth time. "You just don't say that!"_

_Korsak kept his eyes on his computer, watching a video of a stunning Samoyed running through an agility course, though he did spare a few seconds to wonder where Frost had gone to hide._

"_So, okay, your type is your type and whatever, but you don't **tell** someone they're not your type."_

"_What'd you tell that guy Jake your mother set you up with last month?"_

"_That he wasn't my type," Jane answered unrepentantly. "But that's different."_

_Korsak rolled his eyes. "Uh huh."_

"_It is!"_

"_Why?"_

"_Because."_

_Korsak glanced up at her, weighing his options. He usually steered clear of Jane's personal life, but what the hell? She couldn't get more irritated than she already was._

"_Jane…do you **want** to be her type?"_

_Jane spun and frowned at him. "What? No. That's not the point, Korsak. It's just that it's rude."_

_He opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it again with a faint affirmative grunt._

"_You know what? Forget it. You're as bad as Maura."_

_She'd stalked over to her desk, flung herself into the chair, and began typing out her preliminary report on the whole thing with such force that her keyboard rattled._

_He wasn't terribly surprised when the rant started again after lunch, nor when she'd followed him out to the parking lot, espousing her theory the whole way._

_He'd pulled out of his parking place and was putting his car into drive when he saw the anger drain out of Jane's face, replaced with a wry grin. He knew, even without checking his rearview mirror, exactly what she was looking at._

"Jane," he said. "This…you dyin'…it woulda wrecked her."

"I know," Jane said quietly.

"No, you don't," Korsak said, some of the fire back in his voice. "You didn't see her. Covered in your blood. Broken shoes 'cause she tried to run in 'em."

He stood and paced, then sat back down with a sigh. "She tried to _catch_ you, Jane. From way back by the door…ran and tried to catch you. Big gigantic brain and it turned freaking _off_ the second she heard that shot."

Jane lurched to her feet and walked to the window, staring blankly at the setting sun, but Korsak would give her no relief. "Made me put my damn jacket under your head 'cause the sidewalk was hard," he said, relentlessly. "You were bleedin' to death and she wanted you to have a pillow! Tryin' to hold herself together enough to _keep you alive_ long enough for the damn ambulance to get there!"

Jane closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, but still Korsak wouldn't stop. "Alone in the damn waiting room, covered in your blood, for over an hour before I tracked down your parents. Didn't know if you were alive or dead because – far as the hospital was concerned – she wasn't family. Had to hear it on the news."

Jane sank down into the window seat and put her head in her hands.

"So freaked out that she didn't even _remember_ bein' the one to keep you alive," he added quietly, though no less dangerously.

She forced herself to look up and meet his eyes, knowing that the tears pooled in her eyes would leave her wide open to him.

He rewarded her trust by sitting next to her and gentling his tone considerably. "She's a good person, Jane. She didn't deserve that."

She sighed.

"You get your head screwed on straight, 'cause I don't _ever_ want to be the one who has to call Maura and tell her you croaked, you hear me?"

"Okay," Jane whispered.

"Okay then," Korsak said, but it was the brisk pat on her thigh and his whistling for Jo that convinced her he was done.

So she was as surprised as he was when she said, "Korsak? I'm sorry."

"It's okay, kid." He pinned her with a deadly serious look. "Never again, though. You hear me? Never again."

She gulped. "Okay."

She suspected Maura and Frost must have been listening from the door, because not more than a minute later, she felt Maura's hands gently kneading her shoulders, and Frost was giving her a friendly smile. "Hey, Jane," he said, "I've got friends keeping an eye out for your brother. Hasn't been picked up for anything yet."

"Thanks."

She thought maybe she should be self-conscious when she noticed herself leaning back against Maura's comforting presence, but neither of the guys seemed to even notice.

If they noticed, they certainly didn't appear to care.

"Listen, Jane – "

She stiffened and eyed Frost warily. "You gonna yell at me too?"

"Nah, we talked about it." Frost shrugged. "I'm Good Cop." She stared at him expectantly. "You doing okay?"

Maura's hands clenched on her shoulders.

She turned and glanced at her. "Can you get me a glass of water, please?"

Maura knew she was being put off, but nodded reluctantly.

"It hurts a lot," Jane said in answer to Frost's question, "but I'll get there. I, uh, tried to go up the stairs this morning while Maura ran to the grocery store. Again." She glanced back at the kitchen, remembering Maura's instinctive gasp of horror when she'd stumbled on the stairs at PT. "Made it up two."

Frost's eyes widened. "Good?"

"Couple days ago, I couldn't stand up by myself." She took the glass of water Maura pressed into her hand with a smile. "Thanks."

"Um. Good. Glad to hear it, partner," Frost said warily. "You need anything, let me know. Even if it's just a break from Maura."

"Hey!" Jane shot him a suspicious look.

"Like that would ever happen, I know."


	23. Chapter 23

**The More Things Change**, Part 23 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Thanks in particular for the lovely comments about part 22; it's been a bad week and it was just the cheering up that I needed. :-) (Also, from a story point of view, Jane needed someone other than her mother to yell at her. She's never practiced ignoring Korsak.)

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><p>Her days became one long blur of pain, exercise, therapy, pain, sleep, pain, and the occasional bright moment when she could just lay her head in Maura's lap and relax.<p>

Sometimes the TV would be on; sometimes they would talk; sometimes Maura would just comb her fingers through Jane's hair with one hand and pet Jo Friday with her other.

It was surprising just how damn good that felt. She'd never been a cuddly person – not with her family, not with her friends, not even in any past relationship she'd ever been in.

But with Maura, as it had always been, it was different.

It had started with being able to admit she was afraid.

The first time, she'd chalked it up to the fact that Hoyt terrified her like nothing – like no one – ever had. Somehow, she'd been able to willingly ignore the fact that she'd had a cadre of colleagues, family, and, hell, even the damn FBI standing between her and Hoyt.

And, yet, it had been Maura she'd sought out.

When she found herself picking up the phone after a nightmare, staring at the broken vase of flowers on her kitchen floor, she knew something had changed.

She just hadn't known then what it was.

_Maura was valiantly trying to protect her handbag from the wind-blown rain, but it seemed that every time she repositioned her umbrella, the wind shifted._

_She hurried down the sidewalk but then drew up short when she saw the soaked figure sitting on the stairs leading to Jane's apartment building._

"_Detective Grant?"_

_He jumped and looked up. "Doctor Isles?" He glanced at his watch. "It's after – what are you doing here?"_

"_Oh, I – I came to see Jane."_

_He stood slowly, fruitlessly trying to assemble his soaked clothes into something approaching…well, if not dignified, at least less like something the cat had drug in. "Oh."_

_Maura frowned, sensing that something was amiss, but unable to put her finger on it. "Did you…do you need something?"_

"_Just came to…talk."_

_Maura noticed that he seemed quite distracted. "Are you sure you're all right?"_

"_I'm fine." He glanced at her again, frowning as though just registering her presence. "What are you doing here again?"_

"_Visiting Jane?"_

"_That's right…you hang out."_

_Maura was deeply at sea. "Yes?"_

"_Tell her…." He sighed. "Tell her I said good-bye."_

"_All right."_

_Maura watched him go with a puzzled frown. She picked her way carefully up the three steps, which tended to become slippery in the rain._

_She knocked on Jane's door and was less than surprised to find her friend in a somewhat bedraggled state. "You should carry an umbrella," she said._

"_Thanks, Mom," Jane said with an exaggerated roll of the eyes. She'd learned early in their friendship that if she wasn't – to her mind – ridiculously obvious when she was being sarcastic that Maura would often misinterpret what she said._

_By now, it was simply habit._

_Maura chuckled and lightly shoved her shoulder. "I mean it."_

"_You gonna tell me it'll make me sick?"_

"_Of course not."_

_Jane stopped and stared. "Huh?"_

"_It's been conclusively proven that simply being exposed to bad weather doesn't cause illness. Prolonged exposure might slightly decrease your immune response simply because so much of your metabolic energy – " She cut herself off. "Sorry."_

"_What's up?" Jane said as she offered Maura a glass of water. "You forget your fuzzy slippers?"_

_Maura mock-scowled. "You called me in the middle of the night and asked me to come over as soon as possible."_

"_Yeah, yeah," Jane muttered, belatedly embarrassed by her own reaction to her dream. "Sorry about that."_

"_No, don't apologize." She tilted her head and observed her friend closely. "And I didn't forget my slippers. I was just – I wanted to make sure you were okay."_

"_Well, now that I know there's no one out there with a voodoo doll with my name on it, I'm swell."_

"_Jane."_

_Jane shook her head. "What?"_

"_It's just – "_

"_It's just what?"_

_Maura shook her head, belatedly realizing how deep a hole she'd dug herself into. "Never mind."_

_Jane traded her water for a glass of wine and half of the grilled cheese sandwich she'd just finished cooking. "Not good enough, Dr. Isles."_

_Maura sat on the couch next to Jane and took a small bite of the sandwich. "This is good."_

_Jane's head swung around rapidly as she stared at her friend in something akin to horror. "You've never **had** one before?"_

"_No."_

"_Jesus **Christ**." Jane shook her head. "It's like you're from another planet sometimes, you know?"_

"_Because I've never…?"_

"_You've never had a fluffernutter, and you've never had a grilled cheese sandwich. What American kid has never had a fluffernutter or a grilled cheese?"_

_Maura shook her head helplessly, finally saying, "I did spend much of my time in France."_

"_You have had a **hot dog**, haven't you?" Maura didn't reply. "Okay, okay," Jane said, relenting. "But what did you mean before?"_

_Maura looked away; she knew Jane, a trained detective, could see right through whatever ruse she might use to prevaricate._

"_Maura, come on. It can't be that bad."_

"_I was…surprised."_

"_About?"_

_She sighed. "I wasn't surprised."_

"_Not helping me here, Maura."_

"_I was…well, I was…pleasantly surprised."_

_Every bit of Jane's posture spoke of the effort it was taking for her to maintain her patience. "Maura…."_

"_That you called me, Jane. I – I…think I know you well enough now to know that asking for my help…." She trailed off and looked away. "Thank you," she finally said, meeting Jane's eyes again. "For trusting me."_

_Jane smiled slightly. "Welcome."_

_An easy silence settled between them. The TV was on in the background, but Jane wasn't really paying attention to it; she was trying to figure out, belatedly, why she'd twice sought out Maura's help._

_Asked for help at her worst, yet – scared, vulnerable. She usually just got into her car and drove north until she'd left the feeling behind her. She knew the best Motel 6s all the way from Boston to Portland._

_It was so confusing – she knew, in a practical sense, that Maura could do little, if anything, to protect her, but had that stopped her?_

_Hell no._

_Finally, she glanced at Maura, who had settled back into the couch and begun to drift off, and felt herself break into a wide smile._

_A peaceful feeling washed over her, and she shook her head, leaning back on the couch and closing her own eyes._

Looking back on it now, she was starting to feel pretty damn blind; just about every part of her had been screaming at her brain how it really felt about Maura, but she hadn't understood any of it.

Still, it was a surprise to find herself following Maura around the house, just to be close to her. To lean against her when they sat on the couch watching television.

To want nothing more from an evening than to let Maura brush her hair.

By Wednesday, she'd decided to let it go, accept that she'd been an idiot – it certainly hadn't been the first time – and just enjoy the attention.

By Friday, she was exhausted.

She'd spent several hours every day in outpatient therapy, and even longer exercising on her own at Maura's, pushing herself relentlessly to do more and more.

After watching Jane struggle up the stairs – her current record was seven – one last time, Maura couldn't take it anymore.

"Please, stop," she said quietly.

"Just one more time," Jane panted.

"No. Jane, please. Enough."

Jane shoved her sweaty hair back with her free hand; she was holding onto the railing for all she was worth with the other. "Maura – "

Maura crossed the room and reached out her hand. She stood there for a long moment, staring Jane down until she relented and carefully turned around, taking a tentative step down the stairs.

"That's how I knew," she said, even as she tugged Jane away from the stairs and towards the couch.

"What?"

"That I – that you thought of me as a friend. A good friend. That you cared about me." She squeezed Jane's hand. "You held my hands. You let me hold yours. You don't let _anyone_…."

Jane pulled her hand away and raked it, shaking, though her hair. "You're trying to distract me."

"No." Maura shook her head emphatically. "Jane, you let me touch your hands, your…scars, because you trust me. You'd have to."

"I do."

"Then, please, trust me. Listen to me."

"Okay?"

"You don't have to push yourself so hard. Healing your body – that's only part of – " Maura broke off with a gasp when it suddenly all made sense. "Jane, you're not – oh, Jane…."

Jane squirmed.

"Going up a flight of stairs, getting into the car without help, playing with Jo, going…home – Jane, that's not what's going to make me…any of us…feel better. It'll take time."

"What _can_ I do, Maura? If getting back to…normal…won't make this better, what will?"

"I understand why you did it," Maura said.

"No, you don't. I was desperate and scared and – "

"Thinking of your heart instead of your head. I understand, Jane. That's part of who you are. It always has been. I know that. And knowing that – _that_'s what's going to help me get past this."

"It doesn't make it right. It doesn't make _this_ right – but I don't…if I hadn't, and Frankie had died…." She sighed, thinking of the lecture Korsak had delivered the other day. "I'm sorry."

Maura leaned against her and sighed. "Recovering fully…that won't…be what makes the rest of us heal. Take your time; recover the right way. Please."

Jane rested her cheek against Maura's head. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

There was something more she wanted to say. Jane allowed the silence to lengthen, but soon enough her natural impatience asserted itself. Still, she made sure to keep her voice as gentle as she could. "Ask."

Maura turned and met her eyes. "If-if we – if this becomes – "

"I want this to become," Jane said firmly, "if you do too." She tangled her fingers with Maura's. "Tell me, please?"

"…I…" She shook her head, shrugging helplessly.

Jane reached out and brushed her fingers against Maura's chin. "Maura." She tilted her head and forced eye contact. "Ask." She gently stroked Maura's cheek. "Worst I'll do is say no, and I gotta say – there's not much I'd say no to."

Maura gulped. Her voice shook. "You could – this – "

"What? You gonna ask me to be a vegetarian? 'Cause that I might have a problem with."

Maura chuckled. "No."

"C'mon, honey…what is it?"

"I know…" Maura stammered. "I know I can't ask you not to take risks. It's part of your job – part of who you are…but…." She met Jane's eyes again. "Please don't take unnecessary risks?"

"I won't. I promise." Jane's heart sank at the speculative look on Maura's face. "What?"

"There's – " Maura cut herself off as tears threatened, then took a long, slow breath. "There's no asymmetry in your face."

Jane, stung, had to force herself not to pull back. "I wouldn't lie to you. Especially about that."

"No, I think you believe it."

Jane winced. "But?"

"I'm not sure _I_ believe it."

She sighed and leaned her head against Maura's. What could she say to that, really?


	24. Chapter 24

**The More Things Change**, Part 24 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: As a general comment in response to those of you who expressed discomfort with Maura asking Jane not to take unnecessary risks – remember that they're still both very off-balance and still processing not only the shooting but with actually admitting how they both feel about each other. This is a work in progress for both of them – give them some time to figure things out and hopefully the conclusion they come to will make sense. :-)

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><p>When Jane opened her eyes that Sunday afternoon to see her mother staring at her with a knowing smirk, she groaned against the sense of déjà vu but managed a resigned grin.<p>

"Hello, Angela," Maura said, unruffled, as her fingers slowly combed through Jane's hair.

Jane wasn't as inclined to be so forgiving, though this time she remained laying on the couch, reclined on Maura's lap. "Ma, what the hell…?"

"It's Sunday."

Jane blinked several times, glancing up at Maura, who shrugged. "Still can't believe you really gave her a key," she muttered quietly, then glanced back at her mother. "…_and_?"

"We can't skip Sunday dinner again this week. I let gnocchi night go, Jane, but really…."

Jane looked from Maura to Angela and back again; her eyebrows rose in disbelief. "So you're…what…? Gonna invade Maura's house and cook dinner in her kitchen?"

"Yes," Angela said cheerfully. "She's family. I cook in your kitchen all the time."

"Oh, God," Jane groaned. She glanced at Maura again, then carefully sat up, wincing.

Maura watched her for a moment, then said, "I'll take that into the kitchen for you." She accepted the bag of groceries and fled, though not without an amused look back over her shoulder.

"Well…?"

Jane scowled. "Well what?"

"Come on, Jane. I let it go for a week. Did you two…talk? You were looking awfully comfortable."

"Yes," Jane said reluctantly.

Angela grinned. "And did you – ?"

"…did we _what_?" Jane paused and took in her mother's mischievous look. Her jaw dropped. "You're asking about _actual_…no, Ma. _So_ not talking about _that_ with my mother. No."

"Oh, come on, Jane."

"No."

"Jane."

She had never been the type to run from anything – not bullies on the schoolyard, not perps in the field, and certainly not her mother – but at the moment, she wanted nothing more than to run away. To escape her mother's clutches and go back five minutes to when it was just her, Maura, two tortoises, and Jo Friday.

It was peaceful, and quiet, and as much as she loved her family, the craving for that was so strong that the only thing holding her back was knowing that if her mother saw how hard it was, even now, just to get up off the damn couch, she'd keel over from a heart attack on the spot and Maura would be saving another Rizzoli life.

"No. Drawin' the line right there, Ma."

"But Jane – "

"_No_. And don't you dare sic Pop on me about it."

"Janie…he won't care. You know he won't care."

Jane shivered. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Jane – "

"Oh, come on, Ma. You hear him – "

Angela frowned. "So what?"

"So you think someone who uses those words those ways will be okay with his daughter lov… – I mean, fall… – being involved with another woman?"

"Yes. Because you're his daughter and he loves you. He will. No matter what."

Jane sighed and shook her head. She looked up with a relieved smile, though, when she heard Frankie's voice: "Hey, Ma. Hey, Janie."

"Frankie!" she said, with exaggerated enthusiasm. "How ya doing?"

"Better," he said, though he frowned as he slowly eased himself down onto the couch.

"That good, huh?"

"I'm going to go help Maura," Angela said, shaking her head. "But this isn't over, Jane."

Frankie shrugged at his sister and held up a bag. "I brought – "

She grinned. "Hey, Maura!"

She couldn't help but break out into a huge smile as Maura escaped her mother's clutches and crossed the living room. She caught Frankie's knowing smirk out of the corner of her eye and shook her head.

So. Frankie too.

"C'mere," Jane said, beckoning her to sit facing them on the coffee table. "Gimme," she said to Frankie. "Asked him to pick somethin' up for you."

Maura gave her a suspicious look, but peered into the bag anyway. She withdrew a t-shirt; she pulled out another, then another, and began to laugh.

"Got one for every pro team Boston's got," Frankie said.

"And the BPD ones too?" Jane asked.

"Yep. Softball, basketball…even got one from the bowling league. Had to trade Korsak a Dairy Freeze gift certificate for it, but he finally gave it up."

Maura grinned.

"I want my shirts back," Jane said, pointing at the football jersey Maura was wearing.

"No."

Jane just stared at her.

"You can have the new ones."

"But – "

Maura grinned at her, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I like yours."

Jane narrowed her eyes at Maura. "We'll talk about this later." She waved vaguely towards the kitchen. "You go cook with Ma."

Maura rolled her eyes as she stood. "Fine, but I'm not going to be barefoot." She leaned closer and murmured, right into Jane's ear, "And pregnant would be extremely complicated, at least at the moment."

Jane's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, God, don't say that word in front of my mom!"

Frankie grinned as Maura tossed a dismissive wave over her shoulder. "You are so whipped."

Jane punched him in the shoulder.

"What? It's not like this is new information."

Jane sighed. _Yep, Frankie too_. "It was to me," she admitted reluctantly.

As she had begun to expect, Frankie stared at her in complete disbelief. "You are freaking kidding me." She shrugged. "Seriously?"

"Apparently everybody knew but me. And maybe Maura."

"Holy crap!" Frankie stared at her. "_Really_?"

Jane grunted, then shifted on the couch, only to freeze with a wince.

Frankie noticed, and gently touched her arm. "Janie…" he said softly, "how you doing? Really?"

"Really?"

He nodded.

She looked towards the kitchen, ensuring that both her mother and Maura were safely out of earshot. "I feel like crap," she admitted. She sighed and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Actually, I feel like crappy crap."

"Percoset, huh?"

Jane frowned.

"Remember when you dislocated your elbow playing football that Thanksgiving?"

Just the thought brought her hand up to cradle her right arm. "You mean when _you_ dislocated my elbow?" He had the grace to look abashed. "Yeah?"

Frankie grinned and imitated in an exaggerated, drugged slur, "Hey, Frankie…know who the first guy was to break my heart?"

Jane gulped. "I didn't say that."

"Oh, yes you did."

"No I didn't."

Frankie clapped a hand on his heart dramatically and continued, still in his affected slur, "'Member that girl Susan? She cheated on me with Anna…somebody…and dumped me.'"

"I was eight! She was my best friend, not – "

"Yeah, and you spent all of one afternoon ripping up the pictures of the two of you, remember?" There was surprising compassion in his voice.

"_You_ were five. How do you even remember…?"

Frankie put a hand on her knee and said gently, "You're my big sister. I remember every time I saw you cry. You don't do it a lot."

Jane sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You really knew? About me and Maura?"

"Janie, _everyone_ knew about you and Maura."

"Wish you'd told me."

"Really?"

"Beats talking about it with Ma, don't you think?"

Frankie stared at her in sheer horror.

"Yeah."


	25. Chapter 25

**The More Things Change**, Part 25 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: So, Jane's father. He was given a whole lot less development on the show than Angela, so I had to glean inspiration where I could for him. I finally based most of my characterization on his line to Frankie about not asking for much more than waking up in the morning. That struck me as simultaneously very practical and kind of sentimental, so that's where I went here. Hopefully it works well. This one is short, though – he's not much of a talker (especially compared to Angela.) The next one is much longer.

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><p>She'd tried to help clean up – really, she had. But between Maura's insistence that she not lift anything weighing more than an ounce and her mother's not-so-subtle prodding to talk to her father, she'd finally admitted defeat, allowed Maura to help her up, and walked slowly back to the couch.<p>

She was used to her family; what was it about tonight that made them so overwhelming? Was it that she was exhausted, though she hated to admit it? It was the longest she'd been awake at a stretch since the shooting.

Maybe it was that exhaustion that gave her the courage to sit by her father; she was just too tired to worry about it.

They stared at Maura's TV for a few minutes; neither of them really cared about the Kings game that was currently on, what with the Bruins being officially out of the running for the Stanley Cup, but there was little else on.

It occurred to Jane to thank Maura for having ordered the sports package for her cable, and she grinned.

Finally, eyes trained firmly on the television, Jane managed to squeak, "Hey…." She cleared her voice and tried again. "Hey, Pop, you got a minute?"

"For you? Sure."

He'd tried to keep his voice light, but Jane could hear the echo of the strain of the last few weeks. She sighed. "Dad, I – I have to tell you something." She could tell she had his full attention, but she stared at the television as though her focus were the only thing keeping it on. "Before Ma tells – well, everyone, probably."

"Okay."

He reached out and flipped the TV off. Jane, undeterred, stared at her reflection in the glass. His voice gave nothing away.

"Pop, I…I've been…." She sighed. "I've been lyin' to myself, I think. Or being stupid on purpose. Same thing, I guess."

In the television's glass, their eyes met. Jane pressed her lips together, then forced herself to turn and look her father directly in the eye. "Maura and I – "

Whatever she'd expected, and she herself wasn't really sure, her father's cat that ate the canary smile wasn't it. "You finally figured it out, huh?"

She slumped into the couch, deflating as the adrenaline that had been keeping her lingering pain at bay vanished. "Good God, not you too."

He smiled. "You ran a marathon with her, kiddo." She tried to look away; he touched her chin. "It's okay."

"I – "

"It would've been before anyway, but, Janie…." He sighed. "We almost lost you. You think now I care even a little bit who you sleep with?" He squeezed her knee. "I got my priorities, and in the grand scheme of things – you're alive. You're gonna be okay. You got a good person who cares about you. What more could I want?"

She'd known all along that her mother would likely be okay with the whole situation; beyond the fact that she'd been the one to start the conversation in the first place, once Jane had allowed herself to examine the memories, she'd realized pretty quickly that her mother was often talking about having some_one_ to take care of her, some_one_ to make her happy.

But her father?

His understanding sent a wave of warmth and relief through her. "I kinda figured that you – "

"Jane," he said, cutting her off. "Your mother and me, we've stuck by Tommy through all the bullshit he's put this family through, haven't we?" Jane nodded reluctantly. "And you think we'd abandon you for falling in love? For something good?"

Her jaw dropped. "How did you know I…?"

"It's how you look at her. Your mother hasn't looked at me like that in years."

Jane smiled weakly. "Ma said…well, the same thing. I don't see it."

Frank shrugged. "Hang out by a mirror. Watch yourself when she comes into the room."

"Pop…."

"Jane – I know you were real little when he died, but you remember how my dad was. Meanest guy you'd ever wanna meet. I promised myself that I wouldn't be like that with my kids. I stick by them." He darted a glance at her, acknowledging the other elephant in the room. "Even when maybe I shouldn't. Maura's a nice lady. I like her. You could do a lot worse."

Jane tried to surreptitiously wipe away a tear, only to have her father beat her to the punch and do it for her. "Thanks, Daddy," she croaked.

He smiled and flipped the game back on.

She thought the matter was settled until, at the end of the period, he muted the TV. "Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"You're on your own about the grandchildren thing."

"I figured."


	26. Chapter 26

**The More Things Change**, Part 26 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang," slight spoiler for book!Maura's hometown

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: I almost didn't include this part, because being in character is very important to me, and we haven't met Maura's mom yet. Still, I had so much fun writing it that I decided to just go with it. (I did decide to use the hometown for Maura's family as it stands in the novels.) Oh, and if you're curious about the painting, it's very clear in the premiere as Jane follows Maura into her guest room.

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><p>Maura had been awake for about ten minutes when she felt Jane stir beside her.<p>

The night before, she'd nervously helped Jane up the flight of stairs to the master bedroom; as nerve-wracking as it had been, it had also been more than worth it to see the relief on Jane's face as she'd relaxed in the whirlpool tub in the master bathroom.

The memory brought a soft smile to her face; she'd never shared a bath with anyone before.

It was nice to wake up in her own bed, too. Between her time in the hospital and the nights she'd spent with Jane downstairs in the guest bedroom, it had been close to a month since she'd slept in it.

All in all, life was very, very good.

As she watched, Jane stretched carefully and rolled onto her side with a frown. "I don't wanna go to PT today."

"But, Jane – "

She rolled her eyes. "Just gimme my whiny teenager moment, huh? Didn't say I wouldn't. Said I didn't wanna."

"Rest for a while, then," Maura suggested, squeezing Jane's upper arm. "We've got time."

That was a damn good idea, as far as Jane was concerned. She let her mind drift until she remembered a question she'd meant to ask for a very long time. She'd always been embarrassed to, but given that she and Maura had spent the night cuddled in a tangle of arms and legs, she decided it was pretty much a moot point.

"Hey, Maura?"

"Mmm?"

"Why do you have a painting of a naked woman in your guest room?"

"It was my grandmother's."

Jane's forehead furrowed. "Your grandma liked naked ladies?"

Maura laughed. "No." She paused and tilted her head, then shrugged. "Well, at least, I don't think she did. She was very fond of art, though, and – "

Jane rolled her eyes and allowed her inevitable art history lecture to float past her, watching as she got up and began sorting through her clothes. As the lecture wound down, Maura commented, "Dinner was nice."

Jane, never a morning person to begin with, was still lounging in bed, watching her with a faint smile that turned disbelieving. "Really?"

"Well, it was a little…boisterous." Maura met her eyes, and an understanding passed between them. "And…it was a bit awkward to know that your mother and Frankie knew, and your father didn't. But it was nice."

"Pop surprised me last night," Jane admitted. "Didn't expect him to be okay with it." Jane yawned. "Anyway, you're kinda stuck with them, you know?" She carefully rotated her body and put her feet on the floor. "So…glad you liked it, I guess."

Maura had opened her mouth to reply when her phone began to ring. She felt her eyes widen and an emotion she couldn't quite name grabbed her heart in a vise.

Jane frowned and sank back down from where she'd been struggling to her feet, sensing her upset. "What?"

"That – " She winced at the hoarseness of her voice and tried again, "That's my ringtone for my mother."

Adrenaline propelled her right up from the bed and over to Maura, who was standing by the closet, rooted to the spot. "Hey," she said, putting a hand on Maura's arm, "I'm sure it's – "

Maura turned in her grasp and met her eyes. Her chin was trembling and there was just a bit of a gleam to her eyes that spoke of impending tears. "My father had surgery to repair a blocked artery last year."

There was something…off…in her voice that pinged what Jane jokingly called her detective spider sense. "I don't remember you going to San Francisco."

Maura nodded, just slightly, confirming Jane's suspicions before she even opened her mouth. "My mother called me after he got out of surgery."

Jane began contemplating several ways she could go about making Maura's parents' lives miserable. Maybe Frost could hack into their local police database and void their car registration? Shut off their utilities? Give their email addresses to every known spammer in the world?

"They didn't tell you."

It wasn't a question, but Maura shook her head anyway, glancing at her still-ringing cell phone where it sat in its cradle, charging.

"You gonna answer?"

Maura didn't move, so Jane didn't either. She just stood there, listening to the phone ring, lightly rubbing Maura's arm until it stopped and Maura laid her head on Jane's shoulder.

"Maura – "

The phone began to ring again.

Jane dropped a quick kiss to Maura's temple, then strode determinedly across the room and yanked the phone off its cradle. "Hello," she said, aware of Maura's stunned but grateful look as she belatedly followed Jane across the room. "You've reached Doctor Maura Isles's cell phone."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line – so long, in fact, that Jane began to pull the phone away from her ear to see if the call had been dropped. Then, tentatively, "H-hello?"

"Yes?"

"With whom am I speaking?"

The speaker on the other end of the line had a cultured voice despite its slight hesitance, and the perfect grammar pegged it as certainly Maura's mother.

"Friend of Maura's," Jane said, hoping that she wouldn't wonder why Maura had a friend at her house so early in the morning. "You kinda freaked her out, so I answered the phone for her."

"I…what?"

With a faint grin, Jane handed the phone over, resting her hands on Maura's shoulders with a friendly squeeze.

Maura cleared her throat nervously and took a slight step back until she was within the bubble of Jane's personal space. "Mother? Is everything all right? Is Dad – "

"Maura, is everything all right?"

Maura frowned at the phone. "Well, yes, I suppose. Why?"

"We got the strangest phone call last night." Maura stiffened. "It was an Angela…something or other. Honey? What was her name?"

Maura could just faintly hear her father's voice in the distance. "Rosie?"

She very nearly dropped the phone. Jane circled her to stand in front of her. "What's wrong?"

Maura glanced at the phone, then at Jane, then closed her eyes and whispered, "You – your – your mother…called my parents!"

For a full fifteen seconds, Jane couldn't react at all. It was though her brain had just refused to process anything beyond horrified disbelief. She was vaguely aware of Maura's amused gaze and finally snapped out of it when Maura looked back at her phone.

"Oh, crap," she finally managed to say, taking off as quickly as she could for her own phone, which was charging in the master bathroom.

Maura watched her go, then sighed. "I assume you mean Angela Rizzoli?"

"That might have been it."

Maura fought the completely irrational urge to hang up, throw her phone away, and persuade Jane to enter the Witness Protection Program with her. She forced her voice into something approaching her typical calmness. "She's…you remember the homicide detective I mentioned last time we talked?"

At that, Jane looked up from where she was furiously typing out a text message to her mother with a faint smile. Maura spoke with her parents two or three times a year, and yet she'd managed to mention…?

"Angela is Jane's mother. She's – "

"**Ma!**" Jane wrote, "**What the hell?**"

"But why ever would she – ?

Maura sighed. She knew very well why Angela had called. To stall, she asked, "What did Angela say?"

"**What, Jane?**"

"Maura!" her mother protested, aghast. "We raised you better than that!"

Maura caught herself pinching the bridge of her nose with a sigh. She caught Jane's eye and smiled. "She gave me permission to call her Angela, Mother. In fact, she insisted."

"Wants you to call her Ma," Jane whispered.

Maura covered the speaker. "One thing at a time, Jane. As I said, my father has a weak heart."

Jane shook her head and returned to her phone. "**What do you mean 'what'? Why the hell did you call Maura's parents?**"

"Well," Maura's mother was saying, "she said we should call you. That something important was going on?"

"I – "

"Really, Maura, I'm disappointed in you. If something important is happening in your life, we shouldn't have to hear about it from strangers."

"**Jane, you're the one who told me her parents neglect her**."

Maura gulped. "Well, um…have you watched…I mean, of course you – "

"**I never said that!**"

"Maura? This isn't like you. What are you trying to say?"

Maura took a deep breath to center herself. She hated talking about this. "Did you see a report on the news…." She trailed off and smiled gratefully when she sensed Jane approaching again, though her attention was still focused almost entirely on her phone. "A report on the news about a standoff at the police headquarters here in Boston?"

"**You said her parents never talk to her. That they sent her off to boarding school. That they're distant and barely part of her life. Of course I called her, Jane. Someone had to knock some sense into her and make her act like a mother.**"

"Well, yes, I think I remember reading about that. A detective shot herself." There was a long, long pause. "Maura, are you saying your…friend did something that reckless?"

She ignored the implied criticism. "Yes. Jane. She's – um – she's been staying with me as she recovers."

"Well, my goodness, why?"

"Because her brother was also injured, and her parents were looking after him. And because she couldn't climb steps, even with assistance, until last night, and her apartment isn't on the ground floor of her building."

There was another very long pause, during which Jane typed as quietly as she could. "**But, Ma – you know Maura can't lie. One wrong question and she'll…. This isn't something you talk about over the phone!**"

"She lives in an _apartment_? Maura, there was talk after Adam Fairfield's memorial that you brought a completely uncultured police officer with you as _your guest_, but I didn't think you would really consort with someone so outside your social circle."

Jane must have been able to hear enough of her mother's reply to follow the gist of it, because she tugged Maura to the bed and kissed her shoulder again as she waited for her mother's next volley, which was surprisingly concise.

"**Good.**"

Maura pressed her lips together. "Mother, first of all, it's _your_ social circle. Secondly, how much Jane is or isn't worth is immaterial to me. I've learned to appreciate people for who they are. And she's – she's become…important…to me."

Jane squeezed her waist, then let go and frowned as she typed, "**Ma! I had to be hopped up on narcotics before you could even trick me into talking about the whole thing. Narcotics that MAKE ME A BLABBER-MOUTH. What the hell?**"

"Angela is something of a – well, a busybody."

"**She lives in San Francisco, Jane.**"

"You're avoiding talking about something, Maura. What would she have to be a busybody about?"

"**So what?**"

"**So I figured she'd be open-minded.**"

Jane shook her head. "**Oh. My. God.**"

Maura winced. "I imagine she wanted me to tell you that – that – "

She stared at Maura; she was so focused on her that she nearly dropped her phone when it buzzed again.

"**What**?"

Maura's voice was shaking. "That – "

"That what?"

"**You don't even know why you shouldn't have butted in, do you?**"

The phone was shaking in Maura's hand. "Well, that I've begun – " Her face began to flush and she backtracked quickly, "No, that's not true. That I've had – "

"**I gotta go, Ma. But THIS ISN'T OVER.**"

"Maura, what are you trying to tell me?"

Jane turned to the side and wrapped her arms around Maura in silent support, then whispered, "You can hang up if you wanna. I'll make Ma come up with some lie to tell her."

Maura's whole body shuddered as she pulled in a breath, then shook her head. "That I – "

"Maura, are you…involved…with this woman?"

"Yes. Well…as involved as we can be until she heals, at least – why are you looking at me like that, Jane?"

"Well, that's…unexpected."

Jane watched as Maura's face froze. There wasn't much she could do, though, other than rub her back comfortingly and whisper, "I'll find something to arrest Ma for, promise."

That jolted Maura out of her haze with a slight smile. With something approaching her usual poise, she said, "It was for both of us as well."

"Well, obviously, we'll defer to your judgment, Maura, but have you considered how this will look to others?"

"Mother," Maura said tightly, "I don't really care. You know that I'm an outsider in that circle anyway."

"And this isn't going to help. Maura – she didn't even know which utensil to use!"

Jane snorted.

"Mother…are you telling me your problem is not Jane's gender – but her socioeconomic status?" Maura asked incredulously.

"You yourself said you're at a disadvantage socially, Maura. If you have any hope of truly belonging in our society, being involved with someone so…."

"So what?"

"Well, with such a different background than yours."

"You don't really know my background, Mother," Maura said tightly.

"Your background became ours when we adopted you."

"I see. So blood doesn't matter?"

"No."

"Then why did Garrett kill Adam?"

Her mother had no response for that.

"I'll tell you why. Because he internalized the same message I did as a child. Blood does matter. It shouldn't, but among that society, it does."

Jane glanced at her; the part of her that was all cop noticed immediately that Maura had not said 'our' society, or even 'your' society – the extent to which she had already distanced herself was obvious.

"Maura…."

Maura sighed. "Mother, I love her."

Jane's head shot up at that.

"She almost died, and…Jane called it a cliché, and maybe it is, but it gave me the impetus I needed to admit – to accept – what I've been feeling for some time. I love her. Social climbing – social considerations – aren't going to change that."

"But – "

"I'm happy where I am. With my job. With my friends – my _real_ friends; the first real friends I believe I've ever had. I don't need more."

Jane was grinning widely. She mouthed, "Love you too."

Maura, distracted, answered aloud, "You do?"

"Yep."

"Maura?"

She didn't react to her mother's voice, instead focusing on Jane. "You mean – ?"

"I think I mean, yeah. I'm kinda _on_ some substances right now, though, so that might be making it hard to tell."

Maura grinned.

"Never been in love before, either, far as I know. But I'm pretty sure – "

Maura jerked when her mother's voice echoed out of the phone that had slowly dropped from her ear. "Maura!"

She glanced at her phone and said vaguely, "Sorry, Mother."

"You're clearly busy. We'll talk more about this later."

She didn't react when she heard her mother slam the phone down. Instead, she shook her head slightly. "You love me?"

Jane smiled. "Maura, I go to yoga for you. I ran a marathon for you. Hell, I let you buy me clothes. Yeah. I love you."


	27. Chapter 27

**The More Things Change**, Part 27 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: So, yeah, had to go with "as you wish." It amuses me deeply to think of teenaged Jane picking up that book to read to Frankie, only to find (to her horror) that it's about Buttercup and Westley's true "wuv." (At least, I'm assuming that the movie didn't veer so far from the book that it's not the case in the book either.)

(Just in case anyone wonders, though, it's been "as you wish" for months; it was funny to see it crop up in Adm_Hawthorne and Googlemouth's latest story too, though. :-))

Oh, and I got a *bunch* of notifications from FFN today in my email; not sure whether they all came today or whether either FFN or gmail had issues.

* * *

><p>Jane held out for all of two weeks after Maura went back to work part time. She'd started going to the grocery store after her physical therapy appointments – usually with her mother, occasionally with Frankie or her father – but even with that, there was only so much TV she could watch and so many times she could force herself to walk up and down the stairs to Maura's master bedroom.<p>

Maura, sensing her restlessness, had taken off early that first Friday back, picked her up from therapy, and then taken her on a long car ride down to Provincetown.

They'd had dinner at Ross' Grill, right on the harbor, then sat and watched the boats go by as they split an order of banana bread pudding.

"You're awesome," Jane had mumbled sleepily as she fought to stay awake in the passenger seat of the Jeep. "Know that?"

They'd spent most of Saturday watching Jo Friday prance around the back yard, and most of Sunday visiting with Jane's parents before Sunday dinner.

By Monday, Jane was exhausted, but by Tuesday, the boredom was setting in again. By Friday, she was on the phone with Cavanaugh, asking him for permission to come back to work.

When she'd told Maura, all she'd done was nod quietly.

Later that night, she'd rolled over to look Jane in the eye. "I'm surprised you held out as long as you did."

Still, Maura's mood had been subdued all weekend. Though Jane knew she was worried about her going back to work, she found that she really didn't know how to bring the subject up.

What could she say, really?

Finally, late Sunday night, Maura blurted, "I was wrong. I _am_ mad at you."

Jane sighed. "I'm mad at me too."

"Jane – "

She kissed her head and pulled Maura closer. "I'm workin' on it."

By Monday morning, the silence was thick enough that Jo whined nervously and tried to sneak into the garage as they prepared to leave.

The tension lifted briefly as they climbed into the car. "I still can't believe you bought this damn thing," Jane said as she sat down in the Jeep's passenger seat.

"I like it," she said quietly.

Maura said very little on the drive to the precinct. It wasn't until she pulled into a parking spot that she looked at Jane worriedly. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I'm going stir crazy. You know that. I have to do _something_, and rearranging your CDs one more time isn't going to cut it."

"How did you arrange them this time?"

"Genre, alphabetical by artist, chronologically. Keep goin' back and forth between chronologically and alphabetically by title."

Maura chuckled. "Jane, it's a moot point anyway. I only keep the CDs as a form of backup. All my music is here." She held up her phone. "Now, stop trying to distract me. You still…."

"It's desk duty, Maura. I'm not gonna be chasin' after – " She cut herself off when she saw Maura shake her head. "What?"

No response.

"What is it?"

Maura's voice trembled; her hands were clenched into two tight fists in her lap. "The day – " She cut herself off with a gulp, then took a deep breath and tried again. "The day you – you weren't in the field. You were _here_."

Jane was torn between her lingering guilt and being just a little fed-up with the whole thing. "Maura," she said. "What are the chances of another lunatic going on rampage in – " She winced. "God, don't actually do the math." She forced herself to calm down. "If someone starts shooting, I'll hide under my desk."

Maura looked at her, tears shining in her eyes, and – just like that – her annoyance evaporated. "No you won't. Jane, I know you. You won't. You wouldn't be my Jane if you did."

"Then bring your laptop. Work at my desk. We can get shot together."

She sniffled. "You'd take the first bullet and you know it."

"Maura…."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm being irrational."

Jane smiled briefly. "You're entitled, but…I have to go back to work sometime."

"I know," Maura admitted.

"But?"

"Nothing."

"Maura."

When Maura remained silent, Jane groaned. "This is why cops can't stay married." She hadn't meant, specifically, to distract Maura, but the statement certainly had. She whirled in her seat to stare at Jane and frowned.

"Maura, all I can tell you is that no one had ever done that before. All the guards, all the unis…hell, even the detectives…everyone is going to be freaking paranoid about every single person that comes through that door."

"But he was a _police officer_, Jane. None of those protections – "

"Maura…."

"Marino didn't shoot you," Maura whispered. "_You_ shot you."

Jane sighed deeply. "Hey. C'mere." It was awkward and more than a little painful, what with the center console in the middle, but she wrapped Maura in a gentle hug anyway. "Maura, I love my job, but I don't want you to be miserable."

"I know."

"So how can we make you not miserable? Is it – will it be enough if I promise you that I will do my absolute best to stay safe?"

"I'll try. I'm not – I'm not trying to be difficult, Jane."

"I know, sweetie," Jane said, giving her another little squeeze. "I know."

"It's just that – that – if we had taken this step in our relationship and _that_," she said, gesturing to Jane's abdomen, "hadn't happened…I don't think it'd feel so immediate. But you almost _died_."

Jane tilted her head. "Is that Maura-speak for 'I'm freaked out?'"

"Yes. I think it is."

"Okay. How do we un-freak you out?" Jane asked practically.

Maura's lips twitched towards a grin despite herself. "That's not even remotely grammatically – "

Jane snorted. "Seriously, Maura…how can I help you? What can I do?"

"I don't know. I've been thinking about it for weeks, Jane. I knew today would come sooner or later." She looked down, where her fingers were absentmindedly twirling her ring. "I still haven't come up with an answer."

"How about if I hole up in your lab? I can work cold cases down there just as well as I can at my desk."

"That's not the point."

"Maybe not…but if it were me, it'd make me feel better to be able to see you. Remember how much I was down there after Doyle's guys got you? Korsak accused me of forgetting how to get to the squad room, remember?"

"Would it…un-freak you out?"

Jane smiled. "Worth a try, right? If it doesn't help, we'll try something else. You've got plenty of time to un-freak-out. I'll be on desk duty for a hell of a long time."

Maura returned the smile. "Thank you, Jane."

"Hey…I got your back."

Once upon a time, she'd had no idea what that phrase really meant. Now, though, that she knew exactly what – and how much – it meant, she found her eyes misting up as she said, "I know."

Jane waited for Maura to lock the car door and then followed her across the parking lot. "By the way, we need a code word."

"For what?" Maura asked, steadying her as she stepped up the curb.

"For…you know…mushy things. Here. At work."

Maura shook her head. "How about 'as you wish'?" She stopped just shy of the parking building's elevator. "Jane? Thank you…for trying to make me feel better."

"Got your back, remember?"

"I know."

Jane poked the down button and rocked back on her heels. "I 'as you wish' you, Maura. It's my job."


	28. Chapter 28

**The More Things Change**, Part 28 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang"

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: I looked up photos of Fenway for this section; I've only been in baseball stadiums on the west coast and wanted to be at least a little accurate. I'll keep up the post-a-day for these last three (gulp!) parts; going on a trip starting Friday, and I want to make sure this whole thing is posted before then.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you don't need to rest?"<p>

Jane groaned, glaring at Maura out of the corner of her eye.

"It's just that you're…well…you're quite short of breath. You had bruised – it's quite normal for the lungs to – " Maura winced. "I'll stop now."

Jane slowed to a stop, hoping Maura wouldn't notice her relief as she leaned against a convenient cement post. She took a moment to catch her breath. "I'll be okay. We're plenty early. Game doesn't start for forty-five minutes."

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, smiling despite herself. There was just something about Fenway.

Jane had loved the place since the first time her parents had brought the family to a game. They'd had to sit in the nosebleed seats and needed binoculars to really see anything, but there was something special about seeing a baseball game in person.

Maura shook her head and just waited, hands knotted together in front of her.

Jane reached out and took her hand, tangling their fingers together as she pushed off the post and kept walking.

She soaked up the atmosphere as she and Maura walked slowly through the hallway. She'd never been on this level of seats; she was close enough to smell the freshly cut grass.

When they stopped at their section, she stared in awe. "Maura…these seats rock!"

She smiled, relieved. "Thank you." She squeezed Jane's hand. "I did a lot of research – "

She politely ignored her muttered, "Of course you did."

" – into the best possible location. Some people recommended sitting over the dugout, but most people suggested that behind home plate."

They stood there for a moment, until Jane finally had to admit to something that had been worrying her as opening day had grown closer and the pace of her rehab had slowed. "There's…only one problem."

She saw Maura's eyes dart to the steps and to the seats and back, and knew she'd been – if not consciously – at least subconsciously aware of the same thing.

"There's no hand rails," Jane said. "I don't know if I – "

Maura frowned. "If you would just use the cane the physical therapist prescribed for you…."

"No."

"You still have significant weakness in your right side."

"No."

Maura sighed. "I'll help."

"I've got twenty pounds on you," Jane protested. "I fall, we're both gonna hurt." She eyed the dubiously clean steps with a faint scowl. "I can sit."

Maura followed her gaze and winced. "Jane, I'll risk it."

"But – "

"You are not sitting on those steps."

A sigh. "Okay."

Maura glanced at the seat number in the top row; they'd have to go down the equivalent of a flight and a half of stairs. "What do you need?"

Jane shrugged. "Somethin' to hang onto."

"Do you want me to face you?"

She sighed huffily, though Maura understood that she was more frustrated with herself and the situation than anything else. "Probably…yeah."

"Okay."

Maura turned and held her hands up; Jane gripped them tightly and made eye contact. The look in her eyes was the only outward sign of how uneasy she was. She was about to take her first tentative step down when a man appeared at her side.

"Hey, can I help?"

Maura smiled gratefully, while Jane directed the full force of her glare at him.

"I saw you on the news…what…a couple months ago? You're a cop, right?"

Jane looked at him warily. "Yeah?"

"My cousin's a uni. He was there that day. You're looking good for havin' some holes in you."

"What's his name?"

"Josh, but he goes by 'Big Guy.'"

At that, Jane relaxed into a smile. "I know him. Stand-up cop."

"So…now that I'm related to a good guy, can I help you? My name's Matt, by the way."

"She has a very difficult time accepting assistance," Maura volunteered helpfully.

"Maura!"

"Please? It would be my pleasure, really."

She sighed. "All right."

"The muscular damage from the shooting is primarily on her right side."

"Thanks, Doctor Isles," Jane muttered as Matt took her gently by the right elbow and steadied her.

She immediately felt much more secure and, though she supposed that should piss her off, nothing could really get in the way of the fact that she was at Fenway Park, on opening day, so close to the field that she could practically count the blades of grass.

When Maura had first given her the tickets on her birthday, she hadn't really paid attention to _where_ they were – just knowing that she would get to see the Sox on opening day was enough. When she'd realized they were in the _third_ row, she'd almost had a heart attack right there on the spot.

When she'd realized they were behind home plate, she'd almost kissed Maura right there and then in the middle of the restaurant.

Jane rolled her eyes at the memory, morbidly wondering how many other times she'd almost kissed her friend, and how she'd explained it to herself each time.

"These are bitchin' seats!" Matt said.

Jane grinned, though her focus was still largely on not falling on her face as they slowly made their way down the steps. "Birthday present."

"Really? From who?"

Jane gestured at Maura with her chin.

"Wow." He sounded suitably impressed, though vaguely disappointed. "So you guys are tight, huh?"

"Could say that."

"Huh," he said speculatively, then shrugged and let his apparent disappointment go. "You got good taste, lady."

"You talkin' to me or to her?"

"Yep."

Jane grinned widely. "Hey, listen…thanks for the help."

"No problem," Matt said, stepping back a little. "Good to meetcha. And you too…."

"Maura. Isles."

"Oh, Doctor D – " He caught Jane's fierce glare and cut himself off. "The…uh…?"

"Chief Medical Examiner," Jane said pointedly.

"Right. Sorry."

"It's quite all right," Maura said. "You're certainly not the first person to call me that."

"Well, sorry anyway," he said sincerely. "It was good to meet both of you."

"Good to meet you too," Jane said, mollified. "Tell Big Guy thanks for…whatever he did…" She darted a glance at Maura. "…that day."

"I will." He disappeared back into the crowd.

Jane eased her way across the aisle to their seats, then sank down in some relief. She turned to find Maura smiling widely at her.

"What?"

"You accepted help, Jane. That's personal growth. Nicely done!"

Jane just shook her head in amusement.


	29. Chapter 29

**The More Things Change**, Part 29 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang," slight spoiler regarding the name of a character from the novels (who doesn't actually exist in the story, but who does in the novel)

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Dean strikes me as a good guy; it's not his fault Jane's just not into him.

* * *

><p>Winter had roared into Boston early that year, largely precluding drives to the Cape or back out to Provincetown, which Jane had loved, and she was just about going out of her mind.<p>

As if it weren't bad enough to be stuck inside at work, she was trapped inside during the weekends, too.

At work, she'd cleared twelve cold cases, gotten colder on at least twenty more, had learned how to be an assistant to a medical examiner, and had started volunteering to do the other detectives' paperwork for them.

Except Crowe's, of course. A girl had to have standards.

When Maura had received the invitation to speak about difficult-to-detect poisons at a medical examiners' conference in Colorado, she'd actively encouraged her to go – once she'd gotten over her amusement at the fact that there actually were such things.

Though, she did wonder how Maura – who couldn't lie – was going to explain what it was that had caused her to test Matthias's blood for traces of monkshood. She remembered her saying something about writing a paper about the whole thing; maybe she should look it up?

When she'd dropped Maura off at the airport and had gone home to no other company than Jo and Bass – Frost had reluctantly lugged him up the steps to Jane's apartment – she'd almost called her mother just to have someone to talk to.

Almost.

She wasn't _that_ desperate. Yet.

She'd embarked the next day on her new project, which was to create templates for just about any report she might have to file in the future, and was absorbed in that when she heard Frost's low, "Ooooooh, boy."

She looked up and saw him frowning at the door.

"Jane?"

She felt her jaw actually drop; she knew that voice. The only verbal response she could muster, though, was, "Uh?"

"Uh oh," Korsak chortled.

She glared at him. "Shut up." She plastered a polite smile on her face and turned around to find Special Agent Gabriel Dean smiling back at her – with what looked to her to be more than just polite interest. "Hi," she said, in what she hoped was a neutral voice.

"Hi."

An immediate cacophony of worries thundered through her head. _Maura's in Colorado. She's in Colorado and I can't protect her. Oh, crap, how am I gonna sleep tonight? What if __**he**_ _knows she's in Colorado?_ She managed to find her voice enough to croak, "Is Hoyt…?"

"No."

She sagged – actually sagged – in relief. "Then why…?"

Dean glanced around the busy squad room. "Can we…get a cup of coffee?"

Jane suppressed the wince – or, at least, she hoped she did. "Um…sure, I guess."

"But – " Frost protested. "Hey, what about – ?"

Wounded, Jane met his eyes over their computer monitors and frowned at him. "Oh, come _on_."

He winced, looking like he already wished he could take it back, when Korsak added, "What the hell, Frost?"

Abashed, he said seriously, "Sorry, partner. I know you got more class than that. Just looking out for – "

Jane shook her head and stood, reveling in the fact that it no longer hurt to do so. "Let's go," she said, stalking across the room without looking back to see if Dean was following or not.

* * *

><p>"I heard about what happened," Dean said over his coffee cup.<p>

"Don't like to talk about it."

"You do realize it was a colossally stupid thing to do?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "So I've been told. Repeatedly. By many, _many_ people."

"Kinda brave, too, though."

She winced; there'd been nothing brave about it, as far as she was concerned. "Thanks."

A slightly awkward silence fell. "So," Dean finally said, "it turns out that I'll be – "

Jane was never so thankful to hear her phone ring than at that moment. The fact that it was Maura's ringtone only sweetened the deal. "Hold on a sec," she said. "Gotta take this." She lifted the phone to hear ear and said, "Hey. How was the flight?"

"Bumpy."

"I figured. There's a pretty big storm comin' your way."

She could imagine Maura's startled look and smiled in reflex. "It's already snowing," she said.

"Land okay?"

"Just fine, mom." And that would have been said with the tilted head and slightly narrowed eyes. Jane smiled wider.

"Your mom wouldn't ask that and you know it."

"My mother doesn't know I'm not in Boston, so touché." Jane grinned. "Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you – "

She rolled her eyes. "I'm being good. Got a new project. Working ahead on my paperwork."

"Jane…." And that would have come with the faint scowl that meant "I'm amused but trying to hide it."

"I made templates. All I gotta do is put in the vic's name and add the on-scene observations. Made a set for guys and a set for girls. You know, to get the pronouns right." She'd all but forgotten that Dean was sitting across from her, but when he snorted in amusement, she managed to grin back.

"Jane…."

Warming to her topic, Jane said, "I got one for strangulation. Made one for gunsh – " She winced and cut herself off. "Um…poisoning. One for hanging. One for stabbing. I made like ninety of them."

"Gun…poisoning?"

Jane sighed. _Figures she'd catch that_. "Desk duty's boring!"

"So…" Maura said, "when's your physical?"

"Thursday. Did six whole sit-ups this morning, but I figure if Korsak can pass, that oughta be enough."

"Jane."

She smiled. "I know, I know. That was bitchy. Sorry."

"Be careful, okay? You haven't been alone much since – "

No, Jane had to admit, she hadn't. Though she'd ostensibly moved back to her own apartment a few weeks back, when she'd finally felt safe climbing up and down the three stairs to the front door, which had no railing, she and Maura had quickly settled into a pattern of alternating where they'd spend the night.

"Hey," she said gently. "Don't think about that."

She could hear Maura sniff on the other side of the line. Her brain helpfully provided an image of that, too – her eyes would be a little shinier as they began to fill with tears. She would have her lips pressed together as she tried to get hold of herself. "I – I don't think I'll get too much sleep tonight," she admitted quietly.

Jane had to swallow the lump her own throat. "No crying," she said gently. "You promised that if you went to this thing, there'd be no crying."

"I'll try." She could hear Maura take a steadying breath. "But…just…I saw a forecast. The roads…they're icy. Just try to…drive safely? Okay?"

Jane scowled. "I am _not_ the one who put that big-ass dent in the Jeep."

"That wasn't my fault!"

"Sure, sure. Keep tellin' yourself that." Maura sighed on the other end of the line. "Listen, thanks for – " Her eyes flicked to Dean as she realized what she was about to say, and what it would reveal to him. "Thanks for worrying about me. Means a lot."

"Can't help it."

Jane smiled. "Then you won't make fun of me when I say I tracked the flight?"

She hoped Maura would see that for what it was, and not something overbearing and possessive; when she heard her chuckle lightly, she smiled in relief. "You did?"

"Yep," Jane answered, unrepentant. "Turbulence can be…dangerous, you know?"

"Well, I'm okay."

"So am I," Jane said seriously.

"I'll…I'll miss you."

She sighed. "Me too. I talked to Jo all night, but it wasn't the same, you know? I almost called Ma." She smiled when she heard the quiet laugh. "Stay safe, okay?"

"Okay," Maura said. "Oh! My luggage just arrived. I'll – I'll talk to you later."

"Call me tonight if you can't sleep."

"Okay."

Jane scowled a little, picking at a ding in the table with her thumbnail. "Actually," she finally said, "call me tonight even if you _can_ sleep."

She could hear the wide smile in Maura's voice. "Okay." She paused. "Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Please be careful."

Jane glanced at Dean once more. "As you wish."

Maura chuckled. "In front of someone?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I doubt that, but I'll take your word for it for now. I love you too."

"Talk to you later?"

"Tonight. Promise."

"Bye," Jane whispered, then put her phone into her pocket. When she met Dean's eyes, she winced. "I…um…."

He shook his head. She had to give him credit; though he looked a little disappointed, there was no anger in his face. "Hey, it's okay," he said. "I missed my chance. You did tell me I had bad timing."

Jane tipped her cup in salute. "I…uh…."

"You found someone you can let take care of you. That's good – for you, I mean." He shrugged. "Kinda sucks for me, frankly, but whatever."

"Funny thing is," Jane said, "it was right in front of my face the whole time."

He nodded. "Doctor Isles." It wasn't even close to a question.

Jane didn't know whether she should laugh, cry, or throw things. She settled on something approaching a growl as she demanded, "How the _hell_…were we that obvious?"

"Pretty much, yes."

Jane sighed. _Of course we were_.

Dean either didn't notice her consternation or politely ignored it and continued, "Figured that was why you gave me the brush-off the first time."

She winced. She'd actually been too tired, in too much pain and, in general, too freaked out to even consider breakfast with Dean after recapturing Hoyt.

"Especially after I went to drop that stuff off for her at eleven at night and your car was in her driveway."

She opened her mouth to explain, then waved dismissively and decided let him think whatever he wanted.

"Then when she practically threw me your way the second time, I wasn't so sure."

"Wait…she what?"

"She didn't tell you she called me?"

Jane stared at him. "No…but, you know, it doesn't surprise me. She gets…focused."

"She wanted you safe and Hoyt caught."

"Yeah."

Dean sighed. "Anyway, then I figured out she's not…really all that good with people, except for that facial stuff."

"Know what she told me about that?" Jane mused. "She said that most people learn all that stuff subconsciously, when they're kids. She had to teach herself. And she still has to think about it."

"Huh," Dean grunted.

"Yeah."

"Anyway, kinda sealed it when Hoyt said she smelled like you. Then you turned around and confused the hell out of me when you said you'd go to dinner with me."

"Yeah," Jane agreed absentmindedly, then had to force herself not to spit out the mouthful of coffee she had just taken. "Wait a minute. What the hell do you mean smelled like me?"

He smiled. "'Lavender and fear.' He was right about the lavender."

Jane chuckled. "Funny thing about that? She _was_ at my pace the night before."

Dean looked a little taken aback but said, "Well, there you go."

When she realized what he assumed, she shook her head firmly. "No! No, not – look, she sat on my couch all night aiming my gun at the door. Guarded my back to let me get some sleep, you know?"

If Dean found it strange that she'd let Maura, who had no particular weapons training at all, do that when she'd flat-out refused his own offer of protection, he was polite enough not to say anything about it.

"You happy?" he finally asked.

She couldn't help the big smile. "Yeah."

He shrugged. "Hey, I get it. She's a beautiful lady."

"Yeah," she agreed absentmindedly, then frowned. "Well, I mean, yeah, she is, but that's not – I mean – "

He smiled and waved her off. "Well…it kinda sucks for me, but…I'm happy for you, Jane. Really."

She squirmed a little, but managed to say, "Thanks. I…um…I wasn't trying to…to lead you on or anything. I really had no idea."

"You didn't…? Really?"

"My mom had to tell me. After the shooting, while I was half outta my mind on pain meds."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

Dean took a long gulp of coffee. "Listen, Jane, I know it sounds cliché – "

"Clichéd."

He stared at her, and she shrugged with a faint, wry grin. "I…sorry. Just channeling Maura for a second."

"I know it sounds…stupid…but can we be friends?" He fidgeted with his now-empty coffee cup. "I think – "

"…Sure?"

He smiled. "Good."

Jane drained her own cup of coffee and shot him a mischievous look. "All else fails…my Ma has made it more than clear that I don't get out of the grandchildren thing. You can be my baby daddy."

She grinned as Dean frowned at her, clearly unsure of whether or not she was being serious. She let the silence lengthen with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, then asked, "How do you feel about the name Regina?"


	30. Chapter 30

**The More Things Change**, Part 30 of 30

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**Spoilers**: Through "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang," with a few references to a slight twist on the events of _Ice Cold_, the most recent (until July) R&I novel

**Warnings**: Nothing that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: The only thing that's mine is the plot, such as it is.

**Note**: Wow. I mean it: Wow! Thank you everyone for the comments and reviews as I've posted this story. It's easily double the length of the longest thing I've ever written – just finishing it was accomplishment enough – but it's been a _blast_ to share the story with everybody! Hopefully the ending lives up to everyone's expectations – and it'll hopefully be clear from the end where I got my title, as well. For those outside the U.S. or not acquainted with the saying, the whole thing is generally: "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

* * *

><p>It had taken three text messages conversations over two days to convince Dean that she had been kidding, but at least it had been something to think about other than the ridiculous echoing silence that she'd gone home to every night.<p>

She'd never minded living alone before, but now the silence was about to drive her mad. She talked to Jo – hell, she even talked to Bass – but it just wasn't the same.

By Thursday, she'd watched everything on her TiVo, including a few things Maura had programmed for herself.

By eight o'clock that night, she had dozed off on the couch, curled around a pillow, Jo Friday resting on her hip. She yelped, jumping up from her spot, when her phone rang and vibrated itself onto the floor.

When she finally managed to pick up the phone, Jo Friday staring at her in mournful reproach from her hiding place behind Bass's bulky carapace, she was somewhat breathless. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," Maura answered. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just – you know, never mind. I'm fine. What's up?"

"Just thought I'd call and…and…."

Jane smiled wistfully. "Check up on me?" She fell silent for a moment, wishing this were one conversation she didn't have to have over the phone. "Listen, I uh…I meant to call you. I'm on call tomorrow. Finally off desk duty."

"I know," Maura said, though her voice was even and didn't betray her emotions in the slightest. "Frost texted me."

Jane sighed. "Why does everybody meddle in my life?"

"He cares about you."

There was a long, long pause. "I'm…I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself," Jane finally said. "I just…."

"You were worried about how I would react."

"No," she said. "Maybe." She sighed. "Yes. I just – Maura, I know you're still – that what I did – "

"It's okay," Maura said.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is," she insisted. "Look, Jane, you have a dangerous job, and that's something I have to come to terms with. But you're very, very good at it, and statistically you're far more likely to be killed in a car accident than in an officer-involved shooting."

After a long silence, Maura admitted, "I'll always worry. I can't help that. But I can be rational about it. I've _learned_ to be rational about it. I had to. And I trust you."

Jane took a deep breath. "I get where you're coming from, Maura, I do. Sometimes I have dreams where I-I walk into the morgue, and you're lying there on the dead people table with an ice pick in your head."

"Jane…."

She shook the image off. "So what do we do?"

"Be careful," Maura said. "That's all either of us can do, really." Jane had opened her mouth to make small talk when she added, "Oh – how many sit-ups did you do?"

"…thirty?" she said sheepishly.

No answer.

Reluctantly, she added, "Seven. Thirty-seven. A really…fast…thirty seven?"

"Jane…."

"Remember that last Percoset I saved, just in case?"

"Ouch."

Jane winced. "So, uh, how's the conference?"

"It was…all right." There was something off in her voice. Jane quickly lowered the volume on the TV. "The breakout sessions were very interesting, and my speech went well, but – "

"But what?"

"I – I ran into an old…someone I knew in medical school."

From Maura's tone of voice, it was hard to tell whether she was pleased by this or not. "Oh?"

"He – he invited me to go cross-country skiing with him and some friends."

Jane winced, but forced her voice to be impassive. "Did you have fun?"

"I didn't go."

"Maura – " Jane cut herself off. What was she going to say? _Don't have friends_?

"It – it's a good thing I didn't," she said, though her voice was now tight and tense. "They were in an accident – they were snowed in…in a ravine. One of Doug's friends…didn't make it."

Jane closed her eyes; immediately, she was flooded with images of –

She gulped, imagining being on the receiving end of that call. "God, Maura," she whispered.

But she wasn't done. "I stopped by the hospital to say good-bye." Oh, this was the crux of it – Jane could hear it in her voice. "He was…angry with me. He said that if I had just come along…that maybe I could have – "

Jane closed her eyes. "Maura…."

"You did it too, Jane, that day. The day you…with Frankie. And Vince with you. Why does everyone think…?"

"Aw, honey," she said, in a voice so soft and soothing she was vaguely surprised it came out of her mouth, "if I could crawl through the phone right now and give you a hug, I would, you know?"

"You didn't answer my question."

Jane exhaled. "It's because you're so damn good at your job. You know so much, Maura…it's easy to think you know that too. But – but don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known."

"I know."

"Your head knows."

"Yeah."

"Get back here soon and I'll help your heart figure it out, okay?"

Maura sighed. "I-I have to go."

"Okay. Listen, we can talk about it when you get home tomorrow. Try to get some sleep, okay? Red eyes suck."

"I will."

Jane frowned, sensing that she was still upset. "Maura?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

That did the trick; she could hear the smile in Maura's voice. "I love you too."

* * *

><p>Jane was so deeply asleep that she didn't hear Jo's excited yapping or the footsteps as they approached her bed; when the mattress dipped and she opened her eyes to see Maura's face, she mumbled, "Huh?"<p>

Maura smiled and whispered in her ear, "Shh, go back to sleep."

But Jane yawned, stretched, and frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"I took an earlier flight," Maura said.

"What time is it?"

"About three thirty."

Jane grunted in satisfaction and curled up around Maura. "Missed you."

"Me too."

A little silence fell.

"Maura?"

"Hm?"

"I'll be careful," Jane said. "I promise."

Maura rolled over and faced her, though she was still close enough for Jane to wrap an arm loosely around her. "I know."

"No, you don't, or you wouldn't be – wait, did you just _lie_ to me?"

"No." Maura sighed and touched her cheek. "I know you'll be careful. I just…I also know you. You'll always do what you think is right, regardless of the risk to yourself. I understand that."

"But it's different now," Jane said, a little wistfully.

"I don't want you to change for me."

Jane tightened her hold, burying her face into Maura's neck for a moment before she pulled back. "I – "

"Please…Jane, just promise me one thing. Just one thing. That's all I need."

"What's that?"

"Promise me you won't shoot your_self_."

She smiled. "Promise."

"_Ever_, Jane."

"Even if it's Ma? Or Pop? Or you?"

Maura sighed. "Jane, no one who loves you would want to be bought at that price."

She thought about that for a long moment. "Sucks to be the one left behind."

Maura nodded, but she didn't speak.

"I don't know if I – if I could – if I'm strong enough to be the one left behind."

Maura sniffed. "Then we're even. I don't know if I am, either. And I'm the one with direct experience of the possibility."

She thought about that, too. She pursed her lips and took a deep breath, then, finally: "Okay. I promise. Even if it's you. But you have to promise me the same thing."

She nodded, satisfied. "I promise."

Jane pulled her closer and burrowed back down into her pillow. "You sleep in, okay?"

"I have to go home and unpack," Maura protested.

Jane chewed her lips for a moment.

It wasn't quite the time – but, then, when had they ever done anything the easy way? "About that?" she asked. "I thought a lot while you were gone. It was crazy lonely around here. If you still – I mean, if you still want to – "

Maura smiled.

"Frankie wants this place," Jane continued nervously. "I think he has a crush on Marissa. If you're still – "

Maura stopped her with a quick kiss. "I'd love it, Jane." She grinned mischievously. "But I think Frankie's bound to be disappointed. Marissa has a crush on _you_."

"Oh, come on."

Maura arched an eyebrow. "Do _you_ know when your neighbors vacuum?"

Jane winced.

Maura smiled and brushed her fingers over the scar on Jane's abdomen. "Please tell me you'll hire movers."

"Hey!" Jane protested, but then took stock of the lingering ache from her physical in the morning and sighed. "Yeah, okay. Oh, and I got the locks changed. I'll put your new key in your purse."

Maura smiled. "That was…awkward, wasn't it?"

"Ma has _bad_ timing, but you're the one who gave her a key. I told you that was a bad idea."

Maura yawned, and Jane smiled. "Go to sleep. We can make plans tomorrow."

"Bring a can of tuna salad for me?"

Jane grinned. "You got it. Bring me coffee when you get there?"

"Deal," she said, and closed her eyes, a faint smile still lingering on her lips.

**The End**

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><p>Thank you again, everyone!<p> 


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